Beyond Basics
by L Zaza
Summary: Cadet Starbuck learns about friendship and love while getting into a whole lot of trouble in his third yahren at the Caprican Academy. Cowritten with Aliana.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Security was tight. But not so tight that Cadet Starbuck couldn't get through. It was all about patience. Some things in life were worth waiting for after all.

He took a look at his chronometer as he pressed his body against the huge branch in the Quercus tree that stood outside the Argus Building. 0110 centars. Just a little bit past curfew. Yeah, only three centars or so. Five, four, three, two, one . . .

Right on time, the sentries appeared from around the corner. He watched them from his well-hidden position, as they patrolled their usual route, marching with familiar military precision. It would take them precisely two centons and twenty-four microns to cross in front of the stately building that housed the male cadets.

Starbuck grinned as he recalled that the building's namesake, Commander Argus, was known for seeing everything and missing nothing. Just one more military hero in a long line of them that Starbuck had had to read about since starting at the Academy almost three yahrens before. At this point he had wondered time and time again, just how much of the stories were legend and how much were fact. After all, when training young men and woman to defend the Colonies with their lives, it was advantageous to have a few inspiring characters in the text books that were superhuman.

Luckily, in direct contrast to Argus, the sentries were known for seeing nothing and missing everything. At least in Starbuck's experience. He knew that some of the guys had been caught sneaking into the barracks after curfew, but they obviously didn't take the same amount of care and attention that he did. Timing was everything. Well, along with patience and experience.

He checked his chrono once again and swung the lower half of his body down from the enormous branch. He dropped softly to the ground, knowing he was well out of earshot by now. Silently he waited as he watched the sentries round the corner. His eyes peered into the darkness and he listened intently, ensuring the sound that echoed in the night was indeed the impact of Colonial boots moving away from his position.

A soft breeze blew in his face and he took a deep breath, drawing in the brisk night air, as he looked across the grounds at the Brites Building. A grin crossed his face as he replayed in his mind the previous few centars.

Not in a million yahrens did he think that Imara would accept, when he had impulsively asked her out in the commissary earlier that day. Lords, he had watched her furtively for a couple yahrens . . . just like every other red-blooded cadet with a heartbeat in his class. She was a classic beauty. Dark, wavy hair. Stunning brown eyes. Skin like jamocha. Built like a goddess. There was only one problem.

Imara was Colonel Diallo's daughter.

Colonel Diallo was the second in command of the Academy. Commander Orrick trusted the younger man implicitly. The old man had become more of a figurehead than a commanding officer in the last couple yahrens as he watched over the Academy, allowing his executive officer to make most of the decisions, providing procedure and protocol were followed.

Diallo had made it clear at the outset; anyone who messed with his daughter did so at his own personal peril. As intelligent, humorous and beautiful as the young woman was, no one would dare ask her out on a date. It was a real tragedy actually.

Well, at least that was the way Starbuck saw it. Really, it went against nature that a woman that attractive should be shut away in the Brites Building, along with all the other female cadets, after 2200 centars each night. Especially at secton-end.

He sighed. One yahren away from getting the coveted secton-end passes that were the privilege of the seniors. Lords, that would be a sense of freedom. Of course, unlike certain seniors who would remain nameless –Apollo—he intended on taking full advantage of every pass. He just needed to figure out how to bankroll that.

The dew on the ground had long since turned to frost with the bite of the night air. He checked the area once more and, like a feral felix on the prowl, crept across the parade square to the Argus Building. The building must have been six centi-yahrens old. Vines covered the walls, giving it a historical charm that was pointed out to him repeatedly by academics and officers alike. He had since discovered that it was also the barracks to thousands of crawlons, apians, and avians.

He pushed the heavy vines aside as he knelt alongside the lowest level of the building. The ancient window was stiff and unyielding, especially in the cold. However, he knew that if you hit it hard with the palm of your hand just above the archaic latch, it would give. _Thud!_

Obediently, the window swung open. It creaked slightly and he held his breath, waiting for the proverbial hammer to drop. A smile quirked his lips when it didn't. Damn, he was good!

He dropped into the dark, damp basement of the building, turning to close the window behind him. These rooms were rarely used anymore. Originally, they had held kegs of grog, when the ancient tradition of a jigger a day was given to the men. For an institution that prided itself on tradition, they had an askew sense of which ones were truly important, he reflected.

His footsteps followed the familiar route through the darkened rooms. He could find his way in the dark, if he needed to. He had once done it at full throttle as he had raced back to his bunk, trying to beat the sentries who had seen him disappear into the building. When they had turned on the lights in the barracks, forty sets of weary eyes had looked back at them. Including Starbuck's. That had been close.

He turned at the end of the corridor to climb the stone stairway. The building was timeworn and musty. No doubt the powers-that-be had decided long ago that this kind of atmosphere built character in the warrior of the future. Viruses maybe, character he wasn't so sure.

He paused at the top of the stairs and gently cracked the door. Silence reigned. Once again, from yahrens of practice with skulduggery, he waited for any tiny sound that would indicate someone was waiting. Nothing.

He slipped into the hallway and hastily made his way to a tertiary stairwell. He deftly skipped over the fourth, seventh and thirteenth steps. He knew they creaked loud enough to wake the dead. Up the next flight, and this time skipping the seventh and eleventh step. Almost there. One more flight.

Once again, up another flight of stairs. Finally, he had reached the fourth floor. Just past the senior's rooms was his barracks. Another little perk of your final yahren at the academy was going from sharing a room with thirty-nine other guys to just one. Quite the treat really. A definite advantage when one had to sneak in and out of the Argus Building. Then again, with a secton-end pass every secton, maybe it wouldn't be so necessary to sneak. Hmm. That actually might take some of the fun out of it.

Suddenly, a firm pressure on his shoulder froze him in his tracks. Frack. So close. This ruined his perfect record for the yahren. _Think. Think._

Starbuck turned ever so slowly around as he tried to come up with an acceptable excuse to be in the corridor at 0120 centars, fully clothed. _Ah, yes . ._ .

"What the frack were you thinking?" Apollo's voice whispered furiously in his ear.

"Apollo!" Starbuck whispered back, his taut body relaxing with his obvious relief. "You scared the everliving Hades out of me."

"Well, I'm glad someone could." Apollo grabbed the arm of his friend's jacket. "This way. Now."

"But . . . "

Starbuck was dragged along behind his squadron leader and soon realized they were heading towards Apollo's room. He shrugged himself free and raised his hands before him in acquiescence, as Apollo turned to glare at him.

Apollo nodded briskly and turned to open his door. He stepped quickly inside and then pulled Starbuck in behind him, pausing to check the hallway before he quietly closed his door.

He whirled on his friend. "Starbuck, sometimes you're like a transport wreck just waiting to happen."

"What?" Starbuck automatically protested his innocence. Also, from yahrens of experience.

"What? _What_? Are you kidding me? Taking Imara out after curfew! That's what! Hades, taking Imara out _period._ What were you thinking? Diallo will have your hide."

Starbuck opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Oh, he was expecting Apollo to read him the riot act about being out after curfew, but . . . how did he know about Imara?

Apollo grabbed him by the collar with both hands and pulled him close. "Ortega reported you. Academy Security has already been here and searched the barracks. They know you weren't there." He stared into Starbuck's face, which briefly filled with panic before he twisted away.

"What about Imara?" Starbuck asked as he studied Apollo's bookshelf with a sudden irrational interest.

"I don't know." Apollo returned. "I'll probably hear tomorrow." Imara was also a senior and had been in his class since day one. They were working together to organize a combat survival training expedition.

"Frack . . . " Starbuck whispered as he ran his fingers through his hair. Ortega was so dead! "How in Hades did he find out?"

"I don't know. All I know is Academy Security turned the barracks upside down looking for you. Look, if they didn't catch you together, then they don't know for certain that you were with Imara, but they do know you _weren't_ in your bunk."

"When . . .?"

"2330 centars."

"No wonder the guard was doubled at the Brites Building." Starbuck mused aloud. He had had to time it to the micron to get Imara past the guards and in through the second floor window that led to the repository. She had assured him that she didn't need him to escort her back to her room. Her empty, semi-private room. Oh, sometimes the Goddess of Luck smiled upon him when he least expected it and least appreciated it.

"The guard was doubled here too. I'm surprised you didn't notice." Apollo informed him.

"I did. That's what took me so long to get in." Starbuck replied. Luckily, as they made their way around the building, there had been an additional lapse of thirty microns and he had taken advantage of the first team lagging behind the second.

"Why would you do that? You knew the Colonel would keelhaul anyone who tried to date his daughter. Why?" Apollo asked once again. He watched as Starbuck's shoulders raised in a simple shrug and his head shook mutely. Apollo took a deep breath and tried to think of a way out of this mess.

"Did they search your room too?" Starbuck turned abruptly and asked him.

"Nnnnno." Apollo drawled. "_I_ wasn't reported."

A slight smile crossed the blond cadet's face and he grinned at Apollo.

"What?" Apollo asked suspiciously.

The grin grew in momentum and had soon covered his face.

Realization dawned on the squadron leader. "You want me to cover for you," he stated. True enough, Apollo had been reading quietly in his room when Academy Security had ransacked the barracks looking for "AWOL cadets". His roommate, Quinn, had taken advantage of his secton-end pass and had gone to visit his family. All cadets, including seniors, had been confined to their rooms when the impromptu raid had occurred. Ironically, senior's rooms hadn't been searched. That would prove to be Starbuck's saving grace.

"Well, you did say you'd help me with Bureaucratic Science." Starbuck suggested. He watched the emotions flicker across Apollo's face. "Hey, don't do it if you think it will get you in trouble. I just thought that if they didn't know any better . . ."

"Yeah, I know. I'd make a great alibi." Apollo finished.

"Does that bother you?" Starbuck asked in surprise.

"Wouldn't it be a lot easier if you just followed the rules to begin with, Starbuck?" Apollo sat down heavily on his bed.

"Easier on who?" Starbuck asked with a grin.

Apollo smiled ruefully in reply, "Apparently me." He sighed, shaking his head. Lords, if anyone had told him three yahrens ago, he-- the commander's son-- would be covering for a wayward cadet such as Starbuck, he'd have thought him crazy. It certainly wasn't as if they'd hit it off in the first place . . .

_FLASHBACK_

Apollo knew Starbuck by reputation long before he ever met him face to face. The cadet was trouble, pure and simple. The stories flew around the academy like wildfire of his exploits and enterprises. If only half of them were true, Apollo was certain he would be weeded out before the end of his first yahren. He was wrong.

How they had managed to not cross paths until Starbuck was in his second yahren, Apollo wasn't sure. It probably had something to do with the fact that Starbuck didn't frequent the librarium, the study hall, or the triad courts.

Apollo still remembered going to check the duty roster in the Great Hall to see which squadron he'd been posted to. The squadrons were made up of a combination of second, third and fourth yahren cadets to encourage leadership and teamwork. Though the squadrons were supposedly fairly represented and equally talented, it was the mark of an especially skilled pilot to be selected for the Phoenix Squadron.

"What did you get, Apollo?" Zoltan shouldered his way into the writhing mass of cadets also checking the roster.

"Phoenix," Apollo replied, swelling with pride. "So did you, but you probably knew that."

Zoltan grinned at him from beneath his distinctive red hair, "Yeah, squadron leaders get a bit of a heads up on these things. However, though I can make recommendations for the rest of my team, it's ultimately up to the flight instructors."

Apollo nodded in return. He couldn't be more proud to have Zoltan as his flight leader. The senior was known not only for his skill in the cockpit, but also for his leadership capabilities. He had a way of pulling a group of cadets together and uniting them in purpose.

"It should be an interesting mix. We have a lot of talent here, but also some strong personalities. Do you know everyone?" Zoltan asked him as he looked over the list.

Apollo nodded, "If not personally, then by reputation."

Zoltan laughed shortly, "I take it by that you mean Starbuck."

"Well . . . I was a little surprised to see his name there after everything I've heard about him." Apollo replied. It was almost an insult to the good name of the Phoenix squadron, but he wasn't going to say that aloud. Still, if Zoltan thought Starbuck belonged there then perhaps . . .

"Well, the kid has talent, Apollo. We'll sort the rest out."

"Could you sort the rest out somewhere else? Some of us are trying to get a look at the roster." A voice interjected from behind them.

Zoltan and Apollo turned as one to see a blond cadet with the crest of a second yahren cadet on his uniform. Starbuck's eyebrows rose slightly as he saw who it was that he had addressed and a somewhat bemused expression crossed his features before a sheepish grin took over.

"Hello Starbuck." Zoltan said as he eyed the younger man, pulling his tall, broad frame erect.

"Zoltan." Starbuck nodded and his eyes wandered to the roster just behind the impressive wall of the two upper classmen.

"Do you know Apollo?" Zoltan asked, purposely positioning himself between the roster and Starbuck's view.

Starbuck scowled slightly as his view was again impeded and then his gaze flickered to Apollo. "Nope. Just by reputation. Commander Adama's son, right?"

The familiar mixed emotions that he always experienced when someone referred to him as Commander Adama's son, took hold of Apollo. While he was proud of his father's accomplishments and stature, people that didn't know him tended to assume he was there resting on his father's laurels. "Yeah."

"Must be nice . . . " Starbuck craned his neck, again trying to see behind them. A couple other cadets deeked in from the side to get a look at the list.

"What must be nice?" Apollo asked a bit defensively.

"Having one of the greatest men of our time for a father." Starbuck stated, as if it was obvious.

Apollo nodded at the younger man, not detecting anything remiss in the remark.

"Hey Starbuck!" A voice cried out in front of them, "Looks like they decided to ground you this quarter. You're not even up here."

Concern briefly flitted across his features until he saw the source of the information. "Ortega, your mother commed. She wanted you to know she starched your briefs and will send them to you via courier. She also asked me to make sure you're eating your primaries and that the plastic sheet was still on your bunk. Haven't outgrown that little nocturia problem yet? Shame." He retorted, his voice loud and clear.

Laughter filled the hall and Apollo almost lost his balance as the affronted cadet, Ortega, crashed between the upper classmen to tackle Starbuck around the waist and hurl him to the floor. Starbuck recovered quickly and was soon giving as good as he got.

"Shouldn't we stop this?" Apollo asked Zoltan from where he stood beside him.

"Not yet." Zoltan replied with arms crossed, as he watched the fight, a grin on his face. "These two have been working up to this for a yahren. They probably need to get it out of their systems." He called over to another cadet. "Post a guard at the doors and let us know if Security or any Officers are on the horizon."

Apollo shrugged and continued to watch tensely as the two cadets pummeled one another. Hades, they were supposed to be working together, not trying to destroy one another. Ortega was sitting on Starbuck's chest and had him by the throat. "You leave my frackin' mother out of this . . . " he was yelling.

"I always heard that . . . about your mother." Starbuck rejoined as he thrust his thumbs into Ortega's eyes. Ortega recoiled backwards with the pain, covering his face with his hands, as Starbuck knocked him to the floor.

Starbuck was on him like a lupus on his kill. He grabbed the cadet by the hair and pulled up his head, striking a blow to his jaw.

"Okay, that's enough!" Zoltan roared, immediately regretting his decision to let them fight. Obviously, there was too much history between these two for it to be settled fairly in a fistfight. Several cadets swept into action to separate the two.

Apollo grabbed Starbuck beneath the arms and yanked him backwards, using his momentum to try and separate them. Unfortunately, the younger man still had a firm hold on Ortega and dragged him with him. "Let go!" Apollo shouted into Starbuck's ear.

"Back off!" Starbuck yelled in reply, his body taut and adrenaline coursing through his body as his arms were suddenly immobilized by the Commander's son. Ortega drilled him one in the gut as he ended up on top of him.

"Oomph!" Starbuck hissed, furious now at the restraining arms that held him. He instinctively smashed the back of his head into Apollo's chin.

Apollo barely knew what hit him as his jaw exploded in pain and his vision grew fuzzy around the edges. He had felt a sickening crunch and abruptly tasted his own blood. However, he refused to break his grasp on the wild cadet.

"Let . . . me . . . go!" Starbuck struggled to free himself as he watched Ortega wind up for another blow. It was just his luck that they had chosen to hold him back and nobody had managed to get a hold of Ortega

"ATTENTION!" Zoltan's voice shouted out in proper military crispness, and cadets scurried to get to their feet. Well, all except Apollo, Starbuck and Ortega.

Starbuck could do nothing but close his eyes as he watched Ortega's fist close in, almost as if it was in slow motion. He twisted his head as the fist connected beneath his right eye.

"I said, Attention!" Zoltan yelled, as he grabbed Ortega himself and with one mighty pull, dragged the cadet from Starbuck and onto his feet. "Did you hear me, Cadet?" He glared into Ortega's eyes even as he watched Colonel Diallo enter the Hall from the periphery of his vision.

Ortega pulled himself erect. "Yes, sir!"

"What in the name of the Lords of Kobol is going on here?" Colonel Diallo shouted, his keen eyes immediately taking in every detail of the melee, most notably the two cadets who were still sprawled on the floor. "Cadets Apollo and Starbuck. Get on your feet now! Front and center!"

Apollo and Starbuck abruptly jumped to their feet and drew themselves to attention in front of the Colonel. The man had a distinguished look, with his short, steely grey hair and penetrating blue eyes. His features were sharp, as if chiseled from stone. To his credit, he had remained in excellent physical condition and any excess weight he had gained with age had been transfigured into solid muscle. Though he was shorter than the cadets by a few centimetrons, his demeanor made him seem immense.

"I am appalled and disgusted by your behavior." Diallo leaned close and stared at the faces of the young men who were trying their best to keep their eyes forward and their knees from shaking. He paused in front of Apollo for a long moment before adding quietly, "Both of you."

Diallo walked around the two cadets and raised his voice. "This is not the conduct I expect of men who I have personally selected to wear the insignia of the Phoenix." Starbuck started briefly as the information that he had been chosen for the most prestigious squadron in the Academy sunk in. _Oh frack_.

Apollo fought the urge to close his eyes as the sinking reality that he was about to lose his coveted position overwhelmed him. His father would never let him forget this debacle. Adama probably wouldn't use words, but that look of disappointment and disapproval was enough to have his eldest son writhing in feelings of guilt and inadequacy. Hades, just _thinking _about it was enough to get him started.

"Perhaps I made a mistake." Diallo growled. "This Academy has a reputation for turning out Colonial Warriors who represent the esprit and decorum of almost a thousand yahrens of tradition. This kind of behavior is more befitting bilge rats and barge lice than that of men I want serving under me. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Sir!" Starbuck and Apollo replied together as they waited for the boom to drop.

"Cadet Apollo, I wonder how your father would react if he knew . . . " Diallo started.

"Cadet Apollo was trying to break up the fight, Sir." Starbuck interrupted rashly.

"Did you _say_ something, Cadet?" Diallo hollered, putting his nose millimetrons from Starbuck's.

Starbuck swallowed the battlestar that had suddenly lodged itself firmly in his throat. "Y . . . yes, Sir."

"Did I give you _permission_ to say something?" he glowered at the young man.

"No, Sir . . . But . . . " His mouth was as dry as a ninety-yahren-old sister of mercy.

"Permission to speak, Sir." Zoltan spoke up.

Diallo turned to consider the senior. Zoltan was the flight leader of the esteemed Phoenix squadron. The young man had a lot of potential and had proven his worth time and time again. He obviously had a challenging yahren ahead of him if two of his unit had already come to blows. Then again . . . His eyes settled on Ortega, who had somehow positioned himself out of the line of sight before now. Ah . . . well, that cleared a few things up. "Granted."

"Cadet Starbuck spoke the truth, Colonel. Cadet Apollo was in there on my orders trying to pull Starbuck off Ortega." Zoltan would be damned if he was going to let Apollo go down for trash like Ortega. As for Starbuck . . . well . . . he had to learn to help himself if he was going to get anywhere at the Academy. That meant controlling his . . . impulses.

Diallo paused to turn and glower at Ortega. "Cadet Ortega, front and center _now_."

Ortega shot Starbuck a glare as he took a place beside him. He could detect the amusement that fleetingly crossed his rival's features.

"Fall out, Cadet Apollo. Go to the infirmary and have that looked at." Diallo noted the trickle of blood from the corner of the young man's mouth.

"Yes, Sir." Apollo replied, taking a step back and turning sharply on his heel to march out of the Hall, leaving Starbuck and Ortega to their fate.

As it turned out, Starbuck and Ortega had each received a secton in the brig for fighting. Surprisingly, Diallo had decided that Starbuck would remain in Phoenix Squadron, apparently impressed with the young man's honesty and integrity . . . which were usually well camouflaged under his sarcasm and insouciance.

_RETURN TO PRESENT _

Apollo awoke to a sharp rap on his door. He stole a quick glance over to Quinn's bed, only momentarily confused to see Starbuck staring blearily back at him.

"What time is it?" Starbuck mumbled as he blinked at his chronometer.

"0600." Apollo replied as he jumped out of bed and crossed the small room in two paces.

"Heartless snitrads . . . " Starbuck mumbled, reminding himself that the only reason someone would be knocking on Apollo's door during secton-end at 0600 centars was because they were searching for him . . . unless it was some kind of family emergency. Lords, he hoped that wasn't it.

Apollo opened the door to see Sergeant Brand with two security officers flanking him.

"Cadet, do you have any idea as to the whereabouts of Cadet Starbuck?" Brand asked. His salt and pepper hair was shaved off to a centimetrons length in the style of the ancient military tradition. His uniform, as always, was immaculate.

In answer, Apollo simply opened the door wider and revealed the absentee Cadet. Starbuck had only gone as far as to pull himself to a seated position as the intimidating drill instructor glared at him.

"How long have you been here?" Brand snapped. God's truth, he had been searching the barracks, the grounds and had even gone as far as to call the Civil Security Force in case Starbuck had been picked up by them.

"All night . . . Sir." Starbuck replied. He stood up at the side of Quinn's bunk, well aware he cut a less than impressive figure in his briefs . . . well, at least as far as Brand would be concerned.

"All night?" Brand snapped back. He strode over to the errant cadet. "So, you didn't hear the little search we had in the middle of the night when we specifically went through the barracks searching for AWOL cadets?"

"No, Sir." Starbuck replied evenly. "Cadet Apollo snores, Sir."

"Sergeant, unless I'm mistaken, there are no regulations saying a junior cadet can't crash for the night in a senior's room."

"Unless the senior's a she . . . " Starbuck added ruefully. He didn't miss the look Apollo shot him.

"Speaking of which, did you actually come up with the dumb-astrum idea all by yourself, that you should go on a date with Colonel Diallo's daughter?" Brand raved at him.

"Uh . . . date, Sir?" Starbuck gazed innocently at the man. He knew that Imara would be just as vehement in her denial of their date as he was. She had too much to lose. "I was here studying Bureaucratic Science with Apollo."

"Listen astrum-wipe, are you trying to tell me that on this sectons-end, the best you could do was settle in with a text book and Cadet Apollo?" The sarcasm positively dripped, and with it, the spittle shot out of his mouth and into Starbuck's face.

"Well, at least he has his own room . . . Sir." Starbuck shrugged as he controlled the urge to wipe his face.

Apollo closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. Yep, a transport wreck just waiting to . . .

"Move your astrum, Cadet! Fall in! Now!"

"Uh . . . " Starbuck started, fully conscious that he was only wearing his briefs.

"NOW!" Brand shouted at the top of his lungs, his face growing bright red. He gave the cadet a shove towards the door and then passed him, fully expecting he would follow. This was NOT the way he had wanted to spend his secton-end, playing an instrument of revenge for Diallo. If it wasn't for the fact that . . . ah, frack, he should be at home snuggled up to Lara, not getting called in to go looking for Kid Testosterone. Hades, the kid had to have bullocks bigger than a battlestar to risk dating Imara. No woman was worth Diallo's wrath. Well, then again when he was that age . . . A slight smirk crossed his face briefly as he led his charge down the four flights of stairs and out the front door into the cold night air.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Apollo was beginning to feel nervous as he sat picking at his breakfast in the mess hall. Two centars ago, Sergeant Brand had marched Starbuck out of his room and led him out of the Argus Building. At the time, his flight leader had thought it had more to do with Starbuck's smart-astrum remarks than his involvement with Imara. Apollo had expected to see his friend return within the centar, regaling him with exaggerated stories of bamboozling Brand and Co. with his superior skills in the art of chicanery. As yet, Starbuck had not rematerialized.

As each successive centon passed, he was beginning to fear that Colonel Diallo was going to make some kind of example out of Starbuck, but surely that wouldn't be acceptable in this day and age. Would it?

"Where the frack is he, Apollo?" Dorado asked as he sat down beside his flight leader, fresh java in hand. Murmurs from their other squadron members echoed his concern.

"I'm beginning to think I should go find out." Apollo replied to the table at large as he pushed his tray away. If Diallo had some kind of ulterior motive, he would find out about it.

"Hey, Imara just came in." Dorado motioned towards the door.

Every male head turned as the curvaceous, beautiful woman moved gracefully across the room.

Apollo got up and headed to intercept her. "Imara." He called.

Imara altered her course and joined him. "Hi Apollo. Are we still getting together to go over the itinerary for the survival training?" Her smile was radiant and her eyes sparkled just a little bit more than usual.

"Yeah, but that's not why I wanted to talk to you right now. Have you seen Starbuck?" he asked softly.

Imara's eyes flickered over the people standing around them. Her gaze then swept the room as if she were on reconnaissance. "No, why? Should I have?"

"Imara, someone reported seeing you two together last night. The barracks was searched and all AWOL cadets were reported." He watched as she bit her lower lip in concern. "Starbuck ended up spending the night in my room . . . " At this her smile returned and she grasped Apollo's hand and gently squeezed. "But . . . "

"But what?" she asked, brushing her thick, dark hair back and tucking it behind an ear.

Apollo paused, distracted by her actions. "Uh . . . Brand showed up at my door and hauled Starbuck away at 0600. Nobody's seen him since. I was just getting ready to go look for him."

"I'll come with you." Imara told him.

"Uh . . . maybe that wouldn't be a very good idea." Apollo opined. He could just imagine them finding Colonel Diallo raking Starbuck over the coals for dating his daughter, and Imara arriving just as Starbuck was denying everything . . . again. He checked his chronometer.

"Why not?" Imara asked. Her fine eyebrows arched above her eyes.

"Aren't you concerned you might get Starbuck in even more trouble if you show up looking for him?"

"Is that why you think Starbuck was hauled in? Because he and I . . . " she left the sentence unfinished and averted her gaze, her cheeks flushing suddenly.

_Oh frack._ _Imara and Starbuck . . . Starbuck and Imara . . . oh frack . . . _Apollo felt a flush climbing his own neck and face. He cleared his throat.

"We did NOT sleep together. Is that what he told you?" she hissed at him, her body suddenly tense.

"Uh . . . no, he didn't actually say anything about what you two did together." Apollo stuttered. That much was true. Actually, that was kind of unusual, now that he thought about it.

"Then you just assumed . . .!" Imara snapped, her anger getting the better of her.

"No . . . well, not until you . . . blushed." He finished lamely, wondering why it was so hot in the commissary at this centar.

They looked up self-consciously, as chuckles and laughter began to spread through the room. A few people were standing in front of the windows and more were joining them.

"Hey, Apollo, check out the scenery!" Dorado called out.

Apollo crossed the room with Imara directly behind him. They peered out the window of the mess hall, along with a multitude of others, to see Starbuck crossing the parade square towards the Argus Building . . . in nothing but his briefs.

Apollo stole a furtive glance at Imara, who was clearly enjoying the view. Once again he watched her bite her lower lip, but this time there wasn't the least bit of concern apparent as she watched Starbuck . . . strut . . . yep, that was definitely a strut . . . across the square. A smile of pure pleasure crept across her face.

She grabbed Apollo by the arm, "C'mon."

Apollo let himself be led by his classmate out into the cold morning air. He reflected that Starbuck was likely finding it a lot cooler than they were. Together they moved to intercept him as he headed for the Argus Building.

"Starbuck!" Imara called out to him.

Starbuck shook his head in bemusement as he turned to see them. _So much for not making a spectacle of yourself, Bucko._ He slowed his pace as he waited for them to catch up and tried to act nonchalantly . . . as he stood there in his underwear in the freezing cold with an ever-growing crowd of observers gathering to watch. _Just great!_

"Are you okay?" Imara asked him as she approached.

"What took so long?" Apollo asked at the same time, keeping pace.

"I'm fine. I just cooled my heels in the brig for a couple centars. Then they sprung me." Starbuck told them, crossing his arms over his chest against the cold.

"That's it?" Apollo asked in surprise. Well, so much for thwarting evil plots.

"You don't have to sound so disappointed, Apollo." Starbuck retorted with a wry smile. "Yeah, that and a speech about discipline."

"Then my father . . .?" Imara began tentatively.

Starbuck stopped and let her catch up. Her warm hands engulfed his cold ones as she looked up at him with concern and . . . something else in her eyes. "Uh . . . I didn't see your father at all, Imara." He watched the delicate smile that lit up her features when he said her name.

"Then it wasn't about us?" Imara asked.

"Uh . . . well, Brand did mention our date. Listen, I'm freezing my . . . uh . . .

well . . . " he smiled slightly as her eyes met his with a look of amusement.

"Well, we can't have that." Imara told him as her eyes swept over him, taking in the shivering that was beginning to affect his athletic frame.

"You wouldn't care to . . . warm me up, would you, Imara?" Starbuck asked huskily, stepping closer, arms held shoulder width apart. His discomfort momentarily forgotten.

"Hmm." She replied languidly as she stepped into his embrace and pressed her body close to him. _Lords, he felt good_. Oh, she knew he had a reputation and she could admit . . . that intrigued her. Especially, when the rest of the cadets at the Academy were too intimidated by her father to approach her romantically.

Apollo shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "Uh . . . I'll catch up with you later, Starbuck."

"Hmm?" Starbuck mumbled as he breathed in the fragrance of her hair. Yeah, he was certainly warming up.

"Later." Apollo repeated as he struck out for the Argus Building with a brief look back at the interlocked couple. "Lucky fracker." But then, Starbuck always had had a way with women . . .

_FLASHBACK _

About two sectons after Apollo had met Starbuck, he had heard Eryn, second-in-command of Phoenix and also a senior, refer to Starbuck as "well, you find the maximum amount of testosterone, put it in one of the most sophisticated packages known to man, and then launch it into space at light speed." Now, if Eryn had been a man, Apollo knew the reference to _package_ would have been the fightercraft. However, since she was a woman, he wasn't so sure.

A smile crossed his features as he recalled the day he had finally got up the nerve to ask Eryn out . . . with the help of some sound advice from an unlikely source. He actually recalled reminiscing about the day with his former squadron leader, Zoltan, just before he and Eryn had graduated and headed for their postings on the Columbia and Pegasus respectively. It seemed ages ago now that . . .

A resounding _SMACK _echoed through the launch bay.

"Frack, a simple 'no' would have done, don't you think?" Starbuck's voice filtered in through the rest of the noise of fighters being prepared for launching and pilots doing preliminary checks.

Zoltan chuckled from where he stood going over their flight plan. "I think that's it. He's propositioned every woman in the squadron now. Not bad. Only took two sectons."

"Do you guys have some kind of award for that?" Eryn asked sardonically.

"Hey, that's not fair. Do you see anyone else hitting on every woman with a pulse?" Apollo protested. "I like to think the rest of us maintain a more professional relationship with our peers."

"Hmm. Maybe I should talk to him. He's not going to be very popular with almost one third of Phoenix if everyone has to slap him up the side of the head to make a point." Zoltan mused aloud.

"I wouldn't worry about it, Zoltan. Oddly enough, he seems to settle down as soon as we put him in his place. Almost as if he thinks he needs to get the whole sexual thing out of the way before he can focus on just being part of the squadron." Eryn told him.

Zoltan snorted and shook his head. "Maybe it was that secton he spent in the brig."

"I doubt it." Eryn returned. "From what I've heard from his classmates, he's 'hormones on legs'.

"That's what I love about you, Eryn, you tell it like it is." Apollo smiled and his eyes met hers for a long moment as she considered him in surprise.

"Hmm. Now that's a more subtle approach, Apollo. I have to say, I like it." Eryn told him, her blue eyes locked on his green ones. Her short chestnut hair framed her face and accented her high cheekbones.

"Uh oh. I think I'll leave you two alone." Zoltan teased them.

"Fine with me." Eryn replied to her wingmate. "Apollo and I can sort out the rest of the details. What do you say, Apollo?"

"Uh . . . sure." He cursed the slight flush he felt creeping up his neck.

"Besides, no doubt he'll be second in command or even leader of the squadron next yahren, so we really should involve him more in command decisions. You know, for practice." Eryn added to Zoltan with a far too obvious wink.

Zoltan laughed. "You don't need to convince me, Eryn. Okay, you two sort out the final details. I'll go take our boy in hand." He nodded towards Starbuck and walked away, pleased that Apollo had finally got up the nerve to make a move. As proficient as the young man was in every other regard of cadet life, he was a bit on the shy side when it came to women. "Hey Bucko!"

"Bucko?" Starbuck asked with a smile. His hand rested on the hot flesh of his face where he was certain Rhea had left an indelible mark.

"Yeah, Bucko." Zoltan confirmed as he patted the cadet's cheek. "So, is it out of your system now?"

"Definitely." Starbuck replied with a grin.

"You crashed and burned, Kid." Zoltan pointed out.

"I'm still standing." Starbuck returned with a roguish smile. "Besides, I'm saving my best lines for Imara." His eyes twinkled with mischief.

"You might want to work on those lines before you try them out on Imara." Zoltan told him. "Maybe even try a few on Colonel Diallo first." He added pointedly.

"Yeah, well, I'm just fine-tuning my repertoire. It's an on-going process, you know."

"Apparently."

"Hey, you're not giving me enough credit." Starbuck protested. "Looks like Apollo did okay." He nodded to where Apollo and Eryn were leaned close together going over navigation charts.

Zoltan cocked his head to the side. "Are you trying to tell me _you _had something to do with Apollo making a move?"

"Hey, it was obvious she's been interested in him for a while. He was probably the only one who didn't know it." Starbuck told him.

"Point conceded. You told him that?" Zoltan looked at him in surprise. Frankly, he didn't think Starbuck was interested in anyone's love life except his own.

"Sure." Starbuck leaned in conspiratorially. "Did he use the 'love' line?"

Zoltan looked at him skeptically. "The 'love' line?"

"Yeah. 'What I really love about you is' . . . fill in the blank. Works like a charm sixty percent of the time."

"Really?" Zoltan drawled. "Sixty percent of the time?"

"Yep." Starbuck nodded enthusiastically.

"With odds like that, I'm surprised you don't use it all the time."

"Well, I don't want every woman at the Academy realizing I'm using the same line on them. C'mon Zoltan, think about it." Starbuck shook his head.

"Starbuck, you're one of a kind." Zoltan told him as he walked away.

"I know." Starbuck winked at him.

Zoltan grinned to himself. Lords, was he ever that young? He chuckled as he realized the wild, young man was already fitting in nicely with his squadron. Hades, even the women he had hit on seemed to like him after the smoke had cleared. Zoltan wasn't sure how the younger man had managed that. He again looked over at Apollo and Eryn. Apollo would be an excellent choice for Squadron Leader the following yahren. As long as things didn't get too complicated between him and Eryn and he could remain focused . . . _C'mon Zoltan, you can't take on all the personal problems of your squadron as well as be in command._ He checked his chronometer, aware that it was time to get them organized for launching. He was just about to rally his squad when he heard Dorado say . . .

"What I really love about you Rhea is the way your teeth shine in the sunlight."

Zoltan winced. Well, that was obviously an example of what happened the other forty percent of the time. Perhaps Starbuck or Apollo needed to do a bit more coaching with Dorado. He'd be sure to mention it to them.

_RETURN TO PRESENT_

It was good practice lurking about the Academy at night, trying to avoid Security, Flight Instructors and Officers. Really, he should be getting extra marks for this, Starbuck reflected. He'd have to take it up with Commander Orrick.

It had been a relief when Imara had told him that she had slipped back into her barracks the night before without a hitch. Unlike the men's barracks, the women's hadn't been spot-checked. She had theorized that her father probably was more reluctant to expose his daughter's conspicuous absence. Especially since she was the flight leader for Roc Squadron. Obviously, Diallo had less compunction about exposing Starbuck . . . period.

As for Ortega, well, Starbuck had already put his plan in motion which would see them avenged. An evil grin spread across his face as he pictured Ortega boarding Stamphalian Squadron's shuttle for the survival training the next morning with . . . Oh, it would be beautiful!

Starbuck felt the warmth of Imara's hand in his own as they slunk alongside the hangar. Luckily, there were a multitude of places where a young man and woman could go to be alone on the Academy grounds. They just needed to be willing to exert a little effort.

He paused next to the door and was surprised to find it locked. "Fra . . . cas. "

He stuttered, covering his slip of the tongue.

She chuckled. "Fracas? Who's that? The God of frack?"

He chuckled, surprised at her comeback. "A lesser known God, apparently," he responded blithely.

"Starbuck, my father is a Colonel. After _Mama_ and _Dada_, _frack_ was the first word out of our mouths."

"Well, I guess I just haven't dated a Colonel's daughter before."

"Well, I hope you find it a pleasant experience. Now, about the door, is it locked?"

He nodded and looked for another way in. Three yahrens at the Academy and this was the first time he had found the hangar secured against entry. Humph.

"Let me." Imara whispered and released his hand to position herself in front of the entry panel. She quickly keyed in a code and the small light on the pad turned green. She tried the handle and the door opened.

"Handy." He remarked.

"There has to be some advantages to having your father as executive officer." Imara grinned. "Admit it, you're impressed."

"Well, now, I don't know if I'd go as far as to say . . . "

"Shh!" She cautioned and covered his lips with her own.

Starbuck tensed, part of him listening for what she was warning him about and the rest of him responding to her kiss. Her arms crept around his neck and she pressed herself against him.

"Imara . . . " he muttered as his arms found their way around her of their own accord, and they briefly came up for air.

"Hmm?" she asked, smiling up at him.

"Did you hear something?"

"No."

"No?" he asked, his delight at her answer apparent. "That was worthy of me."

"You liked that?" She grinned.

"Oh, yeah. Very creative. Anything else you'd like to teach me?"

Imara nodded briefly. "Inside, Cadet. That's an order." She nodded towards the door.

"Yes, Maam." He replied, again taking her hand and cautiously entering the hangar. He led her carefully through a multitude of obstacles, finding his way by memory and touch. Suddenly, she laughed and dropped his hand.

He turned in time to see a soft glow light up the immediate area in front of her. "An illuminator. Good idea. I bet you were an Explorer as a girl." He teased her, referring to the well-known youth's club that developed character through outdoor activities.

"As a matter of fact, I was," she agreed, her eyes sparkling. "Ready and willing." She saluted him smartly.

"I like the sound of that." Starbuck grinned at her, taking her hand and pulling her to him.

"Starbuck, that was our motto." She laughed in reply, arms encircling his waist.

"I've never heard a better one." He told her as he fingered a lock of her long, dark hair. "Is it too late to join?"

"I think the chronological order is Explorer to Cadet." She told him in amusement, her lips milli-metrons from his.

"A shame," he murmured as he kissed her softly and then trailed the back of his fingers lightly down her cheek. "You are so beautiful . . ." He murmured, a little amazed that after watching her from afar for so very long, that he was finally holding her, kissing her . . . She was from an entirely different league than his usual conquests. What in Hades was she doing here with _him_? Still . . .

She smiled in return and leaned in for another searching kiss.

He realized this was an incredibly stupid time to be mulling over how they came to be together. _Full ahead, Bucko._

His fingers crept through her hair reveling in the silken texture. One hand gently rested at the back of her head and the other tipped up her chin as their kiss intensified. He felt her fingers tug at his waistband and one hand made its way inside his tunic, exploring his bare flesh. _Lords, talk about a clear message!_

Imara let the illuminator slip to the ground. She brought her hand up and ran it through his hair, messing it up completely. She had been dying to do that since the first time she had laid eyes on Starbuck. Something about that hair and the way it was constantly in his eyes . . . She felt him stiffen.

He pulled back from her, certain he had heard . . . something.

"That wasn't the illuminator, was it?" She murmured breathlessly.

"Shh!" His body tense, he listened carefully.

Voices drifted towards them and they heard a door open at the opposite side of the hangar. A few mounted lights above them turned on, covering the area with a dim light. Starbuck and Imara immediately crouched down.

_Frack, frack, frack_. Starbuck looked around for a place to hide. "C'mon," he whispered so softly he wasn't sure she'd heard him. However, his urgency at the horror of being discovered conveyed his thoughts and she followed quickly behind.

He headed for a Class D Starfighter. The two-seater training fighter and its single-man counterpart had been on the cutting edge of technology fifteen yahrens ago when it had been engineered. However, as usual, there had been changes and advances in aerospace technology and the bird had subsequently undergone several modifications. Starbuck had heard the rumours that the Aerospace Engineering Department was already working on a prototype to replace the Starfighter.

He boosted Imara up into the cockpit and scrambled up behind her, taking a quick look towards the voices before he jumped in. They crouched low and were practically lying down as they endeavoured to stay out of sight.

The sound of Colonial boots drew nearer and it became easier to make out the voices.

" . . . everything on schedule?" The familiar crisp voice was loud and clear.

"Yes, Sir.

"We rendezvous at 0800 centars at Position G as planned. Any questions?"

"No, sir."

"I want a guard posted until we're cleared to launch. Got it?"

"Yes, Sir." The men passed by beneath the fighter and kept going.

Imara grabbed Starbuck's arm and mouthed, _my father_.

He nodded. He had been in front of Colonel Diallo enough that he had figured that out for himself. Starbuck pushed himself upwards slowly and peeked over the edge of the cockpit. He could feel Imara trying to pull him back down and, despite her efforts, was rewarded by the retreating backs of Colonel Diallo and Sergeant Brand, accompanied by two other enlisted men that he didn't recognize.

"If this works out as planned, gentlemen, we will have a new contract and will be assured a comfortable retirement." Diallo's voice receded as they moved out of Starbuck's line of vision. "Now let me take one more look at the package before we secure it . . ." was the last thing he heard before a hatch opened and the voices were reduced to mere murmurs.

Starbuck looked down into the wide, troubled eyes of Imara. "Stay put. I want to see if I can find out what the frack's going on." He was up and out of the cockpit before she had a chance to argue with him. She sat paralyzed with worry as she wondered what in Hades her father was involved in.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Starbuck crouched down as he approached the transport shuttle. He could hear Diallo's voice once again as he surveyed the area, trying to figure out where he could hide and still get a look at what the _package_ was. He circled wide of the transport, briefly noting her identity code—CA 135.

Lords, he had a bad feeling about this. It just didn't sound on the level. What would Imara be thinking? She had looked like a cervidae caught in a headlight. Poor kid. Kid? She was the senior flight leader for Roc Squadron. Frack, she had looked more like a child when she had heard her father's voice . . . It was those enormous brown eyes that he could so easily get lost in.

_Focus, Starbuck! This is no time to go off on one of your tangents_. He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts_. Now, unless you get lucky . . . incredibly lucky . . . you're not going to see whatever they have already loaded in the belly of that shuttle without giving yourself away. However, if you can just get close enough to hear something that either exonerates or incriminates. _He shook his head wondering what Colonel Diallo would think if he knew the young man who was trying to get into his daughter's pressure suit, was poised to either clear his good name or implicate him in . . . something. _Lords, life was weird sometimes._

He positioned himself behind some storage containers to the rear of the shuttle. He could vaguely see the men inside. They looked as if they were leaning over something, but he couldn't make out what they were looking at. Just a little bit closer . . .

Starbuck lay down and began to squirm along on his belly. He hadn't done that since the first six sectons of basic training. He hadn't missed it either. He tucked in close to a tarpaulin and tried to make his way beneath it as he continued to approach the shuttle.

"Nice. So, we finally got them? They look a lot like the old ones. What's the modification?" an unknown voice asked.

"They have a _stun_ setting." Sergeant Brand replied.

"What the frack for? We're at war."

"Fracking conservatives." Brand said, as if by explanation.

Starbuck could hear the others muttering their agreement. He pulled himself beneath the tarpaulin, ensuring he was totally covered, and then peeked out again. Colonel Diallo stood alone on the ramp of the cargo hold. The cadet considered that Imara must have inherited her looks from her mother as he looked at the Arian countenance of the man. Like the stereotypical people of Aries, he was pale of skin and hair colouring with penetrating blue eyes, a definite contrast to his daughter. In his hand, Diallo turned over a Colonial Blaster. Starbuck could see the man handle the weapon almost reverently, as he stroked the barrel. He then straightened his arm pointing the blaster in Starbuck's direction, as he tested the weight of the newly modified weapon.

Starbuck held his breath while he watched the Colonel move the barrel, slowly sweeping the area, as if he was doing surveillance during a combat mission. He reminded himself that if the lasers were new, they would be transported uncharged. Still, his heart nearly leapt out of his chest as Diallo suddenly took a step in his direction. He tensed his body as he prepared to run.

"Colonel!"

Diallo stopped and turned back towards the shuttle. "What?" he barked as he retreated into the cargo hold.

Starbuck wasted no time in wriggling backwards from under the tarpaulin until he was again huddled beside the storage container. He stayed low and quickly made his way back towards Imara.

_Frack, frack, frack._ Now what in Hades Hole was he supposed to do? He had a very strong suspicion that the executive officer of the Caprican Academy was possibly selling arms to . . . Who the frack would he be selling them to? What would the Cylons want with Colonial blasters? That didn't make any sense. _Frack! You really have to pay more attention in class, Bucko._

He sprinted the last twenty metrons to the Starfighter. Imara was a flight leader; she might have a better idea what to do. He practically leapt onto the fightercraft, eager to get them both out of that hangar and to the relative safety of just about anywhere else. Hades, even perching in the Quercus tree was a viable alternative to the hangar right now.

"Let's get the frack out of . . . " his voice trailed off as he gazed into the cockpit. Imara was gone. He raised his hands in frustration and bit back the growl that threatened to tear free from his throat. Apparently, Colonels' daughter's were much like Commanders' sons.

_FLASHBACK_

It must have been something that senior classmen, flight leaders or just the children of military personnel had in common. They didn't listen to Starbuck.

Whether it was him telling Imara to stay put in the Starfighter, or him telling Apollo . . . well, just about anything . . . they seemed have this innate sense that he wasn't to be taken seriously. Just because he tended to act a bit on the nonchalant side of things sometimes, that didn't mean he didn't know what he was talking about for Sagan's sake. Oh, admittedly Apollo had come a long way from the previous yahren. Lords, then it had really been bad . . .

Starbuck still remembered having to get up close and personal with his fighter before Apollo would take him seriously about a mechanical problem.

"A _ping_?" Apollo asked incredulously.

"Yeah, a _ping_." Starbuck replied as he paced beside the two-seater Starfighter. "You really didn't hear it?"

"Over the roar of two ion propulsion engines? No, I guess it slipped by me." Apollo replied, somewhat sarcastically.

Starbuck simply stood and stared at him, hands on hips. Hey, it worked for Eryn.

Apollo sighed. "Did you run a diagnostic?"

Starbuck rolled his eyes. "Please! Give me a little credit. Of course I did." He raised his hands beseechingly.

"And?" Apollo asked in frustration. His eyes strayed over to where Eryn was waiting for him by the door. She was tapping her foot and looking at her chronometer. Not a good sign.

"It was inconclusive." Starbuck replied, somewhat elusively as he watched Apollo's attention wander.

"She was clear." Apollo translated after a pause.

"Well, yeah. But I still heard a _ping_." Starbuck insisted.

Apollo shrugged and racked his brain. Starbuck could get like a daggit with a bone sometimes. Unfortunately, it was usually when he had a date with Eryn. He looked over at Eryn again. She was tapping her chronometer and staring at him pointedly.

"A bit impatient, isn't she?" Starbuck noted.

"You think?" Apollo replied sardonically. "Look, why don't you go harangue . . . ask Sergeant Linnick. He's the head mechanical engineer after all." He was also the most ill-spoken, contrary person at the Academy. The man wandered about chewing on his fumarellos, and treating the cadets as if he took every mechanical problem with the fighters or shuttles as a personal affront.

"Why, Apollo, I do believe you're trying to get rid of me." Starbuck grinned.

"You know I have a date." Apollo returned.

"I'm a bit worried about you. You have that . . . _trapped_ look."

"What are you talking about?" Apollo asked him in disbelief.

"Trapped. Caged. Restrained." Starbuck elucidated as he watched Apollo glance nervously again at Eryn. "Incarcerated. Enslaved."

"I get it! And I do not!" Apollo replied vehemently. Hades, he and Eryn had something wonderful. A mature, warm, sharing relationship. They could talk about everything. They had megons in common. He had never been so happy.

"You do. I've seen it before, buddy. You're much too young to be committed to just one woman at this point. Hades, she graduates in six sectars. Ten to one, she'll end up posted far from the Academy. Are you honestly going to pine for her until the incredibly remote possibility occurs that you get posted together in a couple yahrens, at the earliest?"

Apollo blinked at him. "You're the one who told me to ask her out."

"Ask her out, yes. Marry her, no." Starbuck clarified.

"Why am I even listening to him?" Apollo addressed his question to the heavens.

Starbuck glanced dramatically skyward and then at his shoulder. He brushed an imaginary something off of it. "Ah, the age old question. Because I'm right. I'm wise beyond my yahrens." Starbuck replied confidently. "And I'm right about the _ping_ too."

Apollo chuckled. "_Wise beyond your tankards_ is more like it."

"Care to make a little bet on it?" Starbuck challenged him.

"Starbuck, I don't have time for this right now."

"If I win, you'll come out with us on our next pass to see how the other half live." He carried on as if Apollo hadn't protested.

"And if _I_ win?" Apollo cocked his eyebrows.

"I'll get you a couple tickets to see the Colonial Cup Finals." Starbuck could see Apollo's eyes light up at the thought of seeing the professional triad competition.

"How would you do that? They're sold out." Apollo returned, but he was definitely intrigued. He had hoped to take his father to the final if the Commander made it home for his leave on schedule.

"I have a few connections."

"Do I want to know?" Apollo asked hesitantly.

"Probably not, but . . . I can still get you the tickets."

"Sounds like a lose-lose situation." Apollo said skeptically.

"You ought to know, buddy." Starbuck shrugged, again looking towards Eryn.

"That was low."

"Oh, I can go much lower, just ask Ortega." His eyes twinkled with merriment. "C'mon, how about it? What do you have to lose?"

"I don't know why I'm doing this." He rolled his eyes.

"Because then I'll leave you alone and you can go meet Eryn." Starbuck pointed out the obvious and nodded towards the second-in-command of Phoenix Squadron.

Apollo sighed. "Exactly. All right. You're on."

Well, there was only one course of action after the bet. Starbuck had to find Sergeant Linnick. As usual, the man was up to his elbows in grease and cursing up a storm at the pilots who had last flown his current project, a Colonial shuttlecraft. The cadet explained his predicament and got the predictable response.

"You lilium-white Academy officer-wanna-be's are all the same. You haul your prissy candy-astrums in here and tell me what's wrong with my ships. Ain't one of you willing to get your hands dirty though. God _forbid _you actually learn something useful about how these babies work." He raved at Starbuck, his fumarello quivering furiously from his mouth as he spoke around it.

Starbuck stood back and watched the man vent. Generally, there didn't seem to be much resentment between enlisted men and officers, but Linnick was certainly an exception.

"I spend my fracking life fixing them up, just to have you Mama's boys take them out and over-rev the turbines. Ion propulsion systems, tylium energizers, fusion reactors, they're all just fancy titles in your textbooks. You don't even know a variable that determines acceleration to velocity of light, and you come here complaining to me that you heard a _ping_." He angrily spat his words out at the cadet.

"The thrust to mass ratio." Starbuck replied quietly.

Linnick pulled his fumarello out of his mouth and hawked noisily, spitting on the ground. "Think you're fairly fracking smart, do you? Well, how is thrust generated?" He pointed his chewed smoke at the cadet.

"Through the reaction of accelerating a mass of gas." Starbuck replied. "The gas is accelerated to the rear and the engines and ship are accelerated in the opposite direction. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Basic physics."

Linnick narrowed his eyes and looked Starbuck up and down. "Are you afraid to get your hands dirty, boy?"

"No, Sarge. I'm only afraid of being called a lilium-white, prissy, candy-astrumed Mama's boy again." Starbuck replied.

Linnick nodded slowly and cracked a smile, again firmly wedging the fumarello between his teeth. "Show me your Starfighter, son."

Centars later, Apollo returned to find Starbuck and Linnick leaning against the Starfighter in the main hangar, each of them puffing on a fumarello, and their arms covered in grease. Starbuck seemed to be in the middle of a tale.

"So this arrogant Tagan is visiting a humble farmer from Umbra. They look out over the Umbran's spread, which only covers a couple hectares. The Tagan dusts off his fancy boots and tips his expensive hat to the Umbran and says, _where I come from, it takes me half a day to drive my tractor from one end of my spread to the other_. The Umbran smiles knowingly and replies, _Yeah, our tractor is needin' fixin' too_."

Sergeant Linnick laughed heartily and smacked the young man on the back. "Nice one, son!"

"Hey, you're back!" Starbuck exclaimed when he saw his friend. "How went the date?"

"Great. Eryn had to help Zoltan draw up the new roster, so I thought I'd try and track you down." Apollo replied. He had felt a little guilty about discounting Starbuck's concerns and had gone in search of him. He had actually expected to find his squadron mate in the barracks. It was Dorado who had reported seeing him in the hangar. "How goes the search for _ping_?" He couldn't help the smirk that spread across his face. Especially, when he saw Starbuck scratch his cheek, leaving a streak of grease upon it.

"Apollo, you know Sergeant Linnick?" Starbuck introduced him formally and winked at the Sergeant. He wedged his fumarello between his teeth, and grinned ear to ear as Linnick held out his hand to Apollo.

Apollo nodded and reluctantly took the greasy hand. "Sergeant."

"Cadet." Linnick nodded, mischief apparent in his blue eyes, but his face as stern as ever. "Small problem with a hairline crack in the CD nozzle. Could have been a major problem, as you can well imagine."

"A crack?" Apollo replied in surprise and concern. He was well aware that a cracked CD nozzle could break apart with the change in ambient pressures from one altitude to another. The result could be a complete loss of power or even an explosion if the highly combustible gases ignited.

"Defective part apparently." Starbuck commented. When they had finally traced the _ping_ down to the propulsion system and subsequently the defective nozzle, he had felt in need of a particularly large Sagittarian Ale . . . or ten. Unfortunately, all Linnick could offer the shaken cadet was a fumarello.

At first, it tasted like something scraped off the bottom of his boots after spending a day roaming the fields around Umbra. Now, however, it was growing on him. It would also make one Hades of a prop in a card game. Hmm.

_RETURN TO PRESENT_

Starbuck paused atop the Starfighter and took a good look around, hoping he would spot Imara. Where the frack had she gone? Granted, he hadn't known for certain that there was something nefarious going on when he went to check out what Diallo and Brand were up to, but still . . .

He let out a long breath and tried to remind himself that Imara was not only a senior Cadet with the Academy, but she was also the flight leader of Roc Squadron. It really wasn't likely that she would sit huddled in the fighter, waiting for him to reappear. After all, it would go against her feminist doctrine.

She would either try to follow him, in which case he would have likely have passed her on the way back, or she would be assuring they had an escape route. As long as she wasn't walking up to dear ole Dad and asking what he was up to, it was fine with him. He tried to remember where all the exits were in relation to Diallo's location. It would make the most sense for her to aim for the north exit, assuming she would avoid her father. Starbuck reasoned that his presence alone would likely affect that course of action.

He climbed off the fighter, again taking a good look around. So, now he was searching for Imara while trying to avoid the others. Hades, it would make a great training exercise. He toyed with the idea of submitting it as a suggestion to the Colonel anonymously. Maybe he should wait a while on that.

Starbuck moved cautiously towards the north exit. He huffed quietly as he realized that mere centons ago, he and Imara had been in a passionate embrace just ahead of his current position. Lords, how could he have come so close to his favourite fantasy being fulfilled and then . . ?

"Starbuck!" Imara's voice whispered.

He looked over to where she was crouched beneath the nose of another Starfighter, this one a single-seater. Its parts were strewn about, most of them hanging out of the cockpit. He wondered if she realized she was only metrons away from where they had been embraced so recently. Imara looked anxious as she watched him approach. Her features suddenly changed and she looked at him in horror, opening her mouth to warn him . . .

_Rattle, rattle, clang!_

He looked down in dread to see that he had just kicked the illuminator that they had dropped. Starbuck froze on the spot and listened to see if the others had heard the noise. It had seemed to reverberate through the hangar, but maybe that was just his perception.

"Fan out!" A voice cried.

Or maybe not. _Frack!_ He sprinted forward and caught up with Imara who was already racing towards her chosen exit.

"This way!" Imara hissed, not even looking back. She ran as though Hades' demons were on her heels as she leapt over and around obstacles. Within microns they were through the door that she had quickly coded open.

Starbuck slammed the door and immediately looked for something to jam it shut. Technology be damned! He grabbed a huge stone and crashed it into the digital locking unit. Sparks flew and a satisfying hiss erupted from the mechanism. Imara nodded at him in approval before they sprinted away through the academy grounds.

The exhilaration at getting away free and clear was intoxicating as they tore through the cold night air. Imara grabbed his hand and tugged him towards a small treed area that would afford them some privacy, assuming no other cadets were utilizing the infamous romantic rendezvous.

She took a quick look around and turned to embrace him with a smile on her face. "We made it."

"We're not exactly back in our barracks yet." Starbuck replied ruefully. "Nice escape route."

"Nice job with the lock, if not a trifle . . . barbaric." Her smile contradicted her words.

"Haven't you heard that about me?" Starbuck asked with a grin.

"Oh, constantly. It must lend to your animal magnetism." Imara replied. She leaned in and gave him a kiss.

He pulled her against him once again reveling in the heightened sensations that kissing a beautiful woman after escaping a crazy Colonel pointing a Colonial Blaster at him . . . _Oh, frack!_

"Imara . . . " he pulled back from her and his hands settled on her arms. "We better figure out what we're going to do next."

The look on his face cooled her ardour more effectively than a blast of cold water. "Why? Just what did you see, Starbuck?" She had convinced herself that whatever her father was up to, it was legitimate. She had just been waiting for Starbuck to confirm that.

"Colonial blasters. The new ones we've been hearing about with the dual setting."

Imara pulled herself free of him and turned away. Her mind raced to come up with a logical explanation. "Just what exactly are you saying?"

"Lords, Imara, it seems pretty clear. They're stealing military weapons and selling them." Starbuck told her as he looked at her back. She was quiet for a long moment. Eerily so. In retrospect, it was almost as if he was standing in the eye of a storm just before it abruptly hit him.

Imara whirled on him. "Why do you have to assume that this is NOT on the up and up? C'mon! The top brass doesn't tell the cadets everything that's going on. SO, why do you just automatically concludethat this isn't legitimate?" Her eyes flashed angrily at him. Her body was tense, as though poised to strike.

"Imara, you heard them too. Talking about getting a new contract and about their retirements. Then I followed them to find them with a supply container full of Colonial Blasters . . . "

"Did you actually_ see _a container of Colonial Blasters?" She cut him off. "Did they actually _say_ they were selling them? Tell me exactly what you saw and heard, Starbuck!" Imara as much as ordered him.

"Well . . . " Starbuck thought about her words as he regrouped. Was he jumping to conclusions? No, he hadn't actually seen a full container of weapons. No, they hadn't directly mentioned selling them. But he just had this _feeling _. . . his instinct was telling him he was right on the money. How was he supposed to explain that? "Okay. Maybe you're right. Maybe I am drawing a few conclusions, but . . . surely you can understand why? I mean, what else could it be?"

"I don't know!" she spat at him. "But, I _do_ know that my father wouldn't be involved in something criminal. I know he's a tough officer, but he's also honourable and respectable. He has a family, for Sagan's sake!" She blinked back tears that threatened to spill over.

"Okay. Okay." He held up his hands, silently imploring her not to cry. "Look, why don't we just quietly check around? See what we come up with?" He suggested, backing off a bit.

"You want me to try and incriminate my own Father, Starbuck?" She asked incredulously. "You really don't get the whole family concept, do you? Your parents must have raised you a lot differently than mine did. Maybe that's why you never talk about them." She attacked him in anger and fear. "Well, _we're_ a close family. I admire my father. Why in Hades do you think I followed him into the Service?"

"Maybe you should think of it as trying to clear him then. Not of incriminating him." Starbuck countered, ignoring the remarks about his family . . . or lack thereof. He had never discussed with her his being orphaned as a toddler. It had never come up, and frankly, was one of his least favourite topics. He despised that look of pity that people gave him when they learned of his past. Hades, it wasn't as if he was the only orphaned child since the war with the Cylons began. In fact, it was just the opposite.

"That's where you're dead wrong! _I _don't think he's guilty of anything! I _know_ my father."

"Look, Imara, we can't just let this slide. There's every probability that . . . " Starbuck tried to reason with her.

"NO! I don't even want to discuss this any further, Starbuck. It's over." She took little gasping breaths as she glared at him, clenching her fists. "_We're _over."

"_We're_ over? Just what do _we_ have to do with your father?" Starbuck asked, a little stunned.

"Everything." She remarked coolly, before turning and walking away.

"Imara, wait just a centon . . . " He started after her.

She pivoted on her heel sharply, turning to face him. "Let it go, Starbuck. I'm going to forget that all of this even happened. I suggest you do the same. My father wouldn't take kindly to you nosing around the Academy trying to set him up. Neither do I." She threatened him, not knowing what else to do.

The emotions that crossed his features, a mixture of anger, confusion, betrayal and hurt, almost stopped her as she turned away and walked back towards the Brites Building on her own. However, she steeled herself against him, knowing that the old proverb that her Father had drilled in to her yahrens before was true; blood _is _thicker than water.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

_Easy come, easy go, Starbuck, _he told himself for the third time as he walked briskly back towards the Argus Building. He pulled the collar of his flight jacket up around his neck against the cold wind that had suddenly started blowing. It's not as if you can't get another date easily enough, Bucko. Hades, the women are practically standing in line to go out with you.

Unlike Imara. She had never shown the least bit of interest in him. He wasn't even sure why he had impulsively asked her out when he found himself next to her in the mess hall. However, he did, and to his utmost surprise, she had accepted.

Maybe that was what had really attracted him to her. She had seemed an unattainable goal. The daughter of the Executive Officer of the Academy. Intelligent, ambitious, humorous. The most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes upon. Yeah, _the_ conquest of all conquests. He sighed.

_Face it, Starbuck, that wasn't it at all. You liked her, you stupid, frackin' idiot. How did you think she was going to react when you told her you thought her father was selling Academy weapons to . . .? Whoever. _He blew another breath out between his clenched teeth._ Idiot! What the frack do you do now?_

He felt oddly spent as he tried to put his thoughts in order. Talk about your ups and downs. He shook his head and tried to remember to keep things in perspective. They had dated for exactly twenty-four centars, after all. That was it. Hardly a relationship. Imara was more like a casual acquaintance.

Yeah? Then why did he feel so. . . ? He blinked furiously and bit his lip. _Buck up, pal. You're turning into one of those lilium-white, candy-astrumed Mama's boys. C'mon, focus!_

What if Imara was right? What if there was a logical, reasonable explanation for what he had heard? What if he had just blown this whole event out of proportion? After all, by all reports, Colonel Diallo had a brilliant military career and a spotless record . . . _then why is he teaching a bunch of wanna-be's at the Academy_? Hey, wait, that's not fair . . . _but the question is, is it accurate_? _If he was such hot stuff as a Colonial Warrior, why isn't he on a Battlestar fighting the Cylons?_

He blew out a slow breath and could see it condense into the familiar mist that reminded him fleetingly of his childhood. Hades, the fact of the matter was, he was used to relying on his instinct. From his most fleeting memories . . . flashbacks really . . . of running into the Thorn Forest as a young child, and even through the toughest times he had spent on the streets of Caprica City, his instinct had pulled him through time and time again. Sometimes, it was all he could depend on. His sixth sense of knowing what he should do next.

_So, what do you do next?_ Hades, how did a mere cadet prove that the second-in-command of the Academy was smuggling arms? Maybe he should talk to Apollo. He dug his hands into his pockets as he walked. What would his flight leader think of it all?

After all, Apollo seemed to have a lot of respect for Colonel Diallo. He might not take Starbuck's accusations any more seriously than Imara did. Apollo and Imara were both flight leaders in the Academy. Their fathers were both well-known, well-respected, decorated Officers of the Colonies.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he had to get something more concrete on Diallo before he could go hurling accusations at the man, even to Apollo. It could be the end of a career . . . most likely Starbuck's, if he didn't proceed with caution and restraint. He should his head ruefully. Frack! Caution and restraint; now he really was in trouble.

Then, there was still the possibility that he was wrong . . .

"Hold it!" A clipped voice called out in the night.

Starbuck grimaced as a beam of light covered him and two Security Officers ran his way. Lords, he had let his mind wander like a first yahren cadet as he strolled back towards the barracks, slightly preoccupied. He hesitated as he briefly thought about making a run for it, but a quick glance revealed two more Officers flanking him.

"Ah, Cadet Starbuck, you must love spending time in the brig." Officer Keane goaded him as he approached. "As it happens, we have your regular cell freshly aired and awaiting you." He flashed a triumphant grin.

"Yeah, but are the sheets turned down and the pillows fluffed?" Starbuck retorted as Keane gave him a shove towards the Academy Brig. A defiant grin briefly crossed his features until he heard Keane address one of his subordinates.

"Contact Sergeant Brand. Tell him Cadet Starbuck is in the brig . . . again."

_FLASHBACK_

The brig. How was it humanly possible that someone who had decided to dedicate his life . . . well, maybe _life_ was too hasty a word . . . but, dedicate his _career _to defending the Colonies, had ended up spending so much time in the brig? Starbuck knew just about every centimetron of these same three walls. He knew every dent, every patch job, every mark, and had just about settled on the apparent fact that Battlestar grey had been the paint colour of choice for about as long as the brig had been there.

Admittedly, he had only been in the brig one other time this yahren. Unimpressively, it had been the previous day. As a third yahren cadet, if he got one more black mark on his record, they would ground him. He had laughed off his previous visit. This time he wasn't laughing as he waited for Sergeant Brand, drill instructor from Hades Hole, to make his appearance.

With an exasperated sigh, Starbuck flopped down on the bunk and tried to think of something else, other than how _fun_ and _exciting_ his next visit with the Sergeant would be. Lords, what he'd give for a fumarello right now . . . A slight grin etched its way across his face. Apollo hated the weed and couldn't understand how filling one's lungs with an obnoxious toxin could be relaxing. Ah, Apollo . . .

He still remembered when he had finally been able to drag Apollo out on the town the previous yahren after his friend had lost the bet regarding the pinging Starfighter. Apollo's final words as they had left the Academy with a group of their squadron mates were, "I just don't want to end up in the brig, Starbuck."

A fleeting smile crossed his features as he realized yet again, that someone with the prescience, intelligence and talent of the Commander's son, would go far.

At that point, though he had a lot of respect for Apollo, he truly thought the guy just didn't know how to let loose and have a good time. Truth be known, he didn't think the Commander's son was capable of it. He was about to learn a great deal about his friend . . .

"I can't believe you talked Apollo into coming out with us!" Dorado told Starbuck as they hung back behind the others while they walked down the street that was affectionately known as Debauchery Row.

"Didn't take a lot of talking. He knew he was overdue." Starbuck grinned as he stood still to light up the fumarello he had recently acquired from the nearest . . . and cheapest tobacconist.

"Frack, Bucko, how can you stand that thing?" Dorado turned up his nose in distaste and waved off the smoke.

"It grows on you." Starbuck replied, puffing away.

"Well, something will, if you go around smelling like that."

"Yeah? Maybe a buxom blonde or a long-legged red-head?" Starbuck suggested with a leer.

"Legs or breasts? Make up your mind." Dorado suggested.

Starbuck chuckled. "And decrease my odds at getting lucky tonight? Don't think so."

"What was that about odds?" Apollo asked as he walked back towards them. "Cards or women, Starbuck?"

"What is it with you guys, always trying to get me to make a choice." Starbuck asked, dramatically befuddled.

"You can't have it all, Bucko." Apollo replied.

"You can't?" Starbuck's eyes opened wide. "Who made that rule? I didn't see it posted anywhere."

"Where would you post such a rule?" Dorado asked.

"The Book of the Word." Suggested Apollo with a shrug.

"Oh. Did they ever make a holovid?" Starbuck asked with a grin and joined their laughter at his remark. "They used to read it aloud to us when we were kids in school. Do you remember that?"

"Oh, yeah. It was the only time we could get away with blowing spitballs. The teacher was so wrapped up in trying to impress the Word upon us, he didn't notice we were engaged in mucus warfare." Apollo reminisced.

"YOU blew spitballs?" Dorado asked.

Apollo laughed at his surprise. "Of course. Didn't you?"

"I don't know how much of this I can take, Apollo. First you agree to come out with us, and then I find out you used to exchange aerial mucus shots with your classmates." Dorado teased him as he moved forward to join Zoltan and the others.

"Maybe you're right, Starbuck. Maybe this _is_ overdue." Apollo mused aloud.

"You think?"

Apollo settled into the club scene quickly as they made the rounds. First, a sports bar for a couple drinks and the tale end of a Triad Semi-Final. Next, an exotic dance club for a few drinks and some lively entertainment.

"C'mon, let's go." Zoltan remarked after finishing his ale.

"Yeah, it's like going to a buffet and being told you can't eat anything." Apollo added. "I know a great little club. Let's go check it out."

Before Starbuck knew it, Apollo was routinely making suggestions on where they should go next, as they moved from club to club. Evidently, the Commander's son knew Chicanery Row pretty well. Well, at least all the hot spots. Starbuck was astounded as Apollo transformed into their ringleader, especially after a few drinks.

"C'mon guys, let's move on." Apollo tipped his glass to his lips and nodded towards the door.

"Where next, Apollo?" Zoltan asked him.

"There's a new club that opened up called the Wormhole." Apollo suggested.

"That place will be packed. We'll never get in." Zoltan argued.

"There's a back entrance. I know one of the owners. He'll let us in, no problem." Apollo assured them. Nartana had gone to school with Apollo from the time they were children. Though the two had chosen different career paths, Apollo had certainly enjoyed helping his friend do some research as he went through the planning stages for opening his new club, the Wormhole.

"I've heard the music is great. It's kind of out of the way though, isn't it?" Dorado asked.

"A bit, but I wouldn't worry about it with a group like this." Apollo returned cheerfully. He was having a great time. He was relaxed, maybe a little too much so, but what the frack. He was among friends. And these were the friends he would remember for the rest of his life. Glancing around the table, he smiled warmly, and perhaps a little drunkenly, at his friends. He grinned as he imagined himself telling his grandchildren about his academy days as a cadet, and all the characters he had hung out with. "Someone pry Starbuck loose from that red-head, and let's get going."

Starbuck remembered being dragged out into the cold and along the damp streets between Apollo and Zoltan. Lords, he was really at the point in the night where he was ready to part company with the guys. "But I found my red-head." He moaned.

Zoltan laughed. "Starbuck, I'm flattered, but you're not my type."

Starbuck groaned, not amused, as they continued down the dark streets. They entered an alley way en masse and headed for the dimly lit entrance up ahead.

"Hold up for a centon, guys." Starbuck pulled back.

"C'mon, Bucko. We're not letting you go get yourself in trouble." Zoltan told him, as he reached back for the younger cadet's arm.

"No really . . . wait." Starbuck's voice was tense and serious.

"What is it?" Apollo asked. This was the Starbuck he was used to seeing in the cockpit. Alert, aware and dependable.

"I . . . uh . . . " It felt familiar. Eerily so. He looked around at the covered doorways, each of them dark and unwelcoming . . . unless you were . . .

"What?" Apollo asked again.

"It just seems so . . . familiar. . . " Starbuck mumbled, not sure what he was trying to say. He looked around, not particularly noticing any recognizable landmarks. But he _knew_ this place. And it knew him . . . A shiver ran down his spine.

"Sagan's Sake, the alley outside the newest club in Caprica City feels familiar to Starbuck. What a surprise!" Dorado exclaimed.

The others joined in the laughter, but Starbuck barely heard the remark as his mind recalled another time . . . a separate life . . . when he had been there. . .

_. . . Cold. Dark. Hungry. Alone. The wind whipped through his clothes and he knew he had to find shelter. His cheeks began to feel damp, and he cursed the God that had added rain to the rest of the line up for his mong-filled day. He pulled the coat around him that he had stolen from the community natatorium. It was much too large, but it was better than nothing. He hoped the old man had another one. Hades, from the style of the old guy's clothes and the quality of his boots, he probably had an entire closet full._

_The alley seemed quiet as he treaded along cautiously. He knew there were a lot of doorways one could seek shelter in. The trick was finding an uninhabited one. Nothing worse than awakening to find an old drunk breathing on him, trying to roll him for whatever he had or worse . . ._

"I think I'll pass, guys." Starbuck suddenly told them amidst their laughter. He didn't have a good reason for it, but he needed to get out of that place. Too many memories . . .

"Don't be a killjoy, Starbuck." Dorado started.

"I'm not." He refuted. "You guys go ahead. I'll just head back . . . " His eyes darted to the various doorways.

"To the red-head." Zoltan threw in. "Forget it, Bucko. I'm not letting you out of my sight. Good try, kid. We're going to stick together." Young cadets were notorious for getting into trouble in the city. Alcohol, women . . . temptation was all around them and there were no officers there to tell them 'no'.

"Yeah, Starbuck. Next thing we'll know, you'll be back in the brig for fighting again." Dorado added.

"Or disorderly conduct." Apollo joined in. "It wouldn't look good for Phoenix Squadron."

"I'm not a fracking child!" Starbuck exploded at them. "I'll do what I bloody well want to, and none of you are going to stop me!"

Jaws dropped as they all stared at him, stunned. Until . . .

"Hey, kid. Don't pull that felgercarb with us. We're your friends." Zoltan raised his voice.

"I'll make sure he gets back, Zoltan." Apollo interrupted. He put a restraining hand on the Phoenix leader's shoulder. He had seen the strange, unseeing look that crossed Starbuck's face as the others had laughed. The young cadet had looked fearful and lost . . . almost childlike, for a brief moment as his eyes anxiously flickered around the darkness.

"I don't need a fracking. . . " Starbuck snapped his mouth shut as he made eye contact with Apollo. The older cadet was offering him an 'out'. He wasn't patronizing him. Somehow, Apollo understood that he needed to escape from that place. Starbuck dropped his gaze almost as if he was afraid that Apollo could read his mind . . . see his memories.

Zoltan looked from one cadet to the other. "You're just heading back to the Academy?"

"Yeah." Apollo confirmed.

"Hey, how are we going to get in the Wormhole without you?" Dorado asked Apollo in sudden panic.

"I'll make sure Nartana let's you in before we go." Apollo told them. They were only twenty metrons from the door. "I'll be right back, Starbuck."

Starbuck nodded at Apollo as he watched them turn towards the club. He looked around as he heard the cadets pounding on the alleyway door. Sure enough, if you looked carefully enough, there were people there. Seeking shelter. Resting. Sleeping. Or trying to sleep. It was fracking cold, after all. And there were angry young men in the alley.

He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, feeling the cubits that were there; cubits that he had earned, for the most part, playing some cards with other cadets. He seemed to have a knack for it. He was actually considering hitting town on his next leave to get into a game with higher stakes. After all, a state funded Academy education didn't leave a guy with much of a budget. It left him broke actually. He knew a few other cadets that had picked up manual labour jobs in the city to earn some extra money. He might have to as well, if he couldn't start to make some decent money playing cards. That sure wasn't going to happen at the Academy.

A movement caught his eye. A small form was huddled beneath a broken crate. In the background he could hear Apollo's voice talking to someone. He moved towards the form. A child. Not much older than he had been. Mind you, street kids tended to run a bit on the scrawny side. _Lords, kid, there must be some place . . . _Wide eyes suddenly looked up at him in fear.

Apollo thanked Nartana once again, as he saw the others safely inside. The music boomed and he was sorely tempted to let Starbuck make his way back to the Academy on his own. If it hadn't been for that look on the young man's face . . . No, Starbuck was out of sorts. He needed a friend, or at the very least an escort, to be with him right now. He made his excuses as he kept half an eye on the cadet, who seemed to have disappeared for the moment in a doorway. Where the frack . . . ? "I'll be back soon, my friend. I promise."

Apollo turned just in time to see Starbuck re-enter the alley from where he had been. He was noticeably without his flight jacket. Apollo jogged over to join him, peering into the entranceway to see the slight form that was watching them wearily, covered with a recently acquired Colonial jacket. A cough from the opposite direction drew his attention and he noticed another person curled up in the only shelter available. Starbuck grabbed Apollo by the arm, propelling him forward forcibly, but silently.

Together they turned the corner and started down the street. "Do you want to talk about it?" Apollo asked.

"No." Starbuck replied. He shivered as he blew into his hands to warm them.

Apollo looked over at him again. He had never seen Starbuck so . . . subdued and reflective. There was definitely a story worth telling here. He wondered if he'd ever hear it.

They quickly made their way back to the transport station in relative quiet. The further away they drew from the Wormhole, the more Starbuck regained his usual form. He even tried to convince Apollo to return to one of the other clubs. Apollo had reminded Starbuck that they were supposed to be returning to the Academy. Starbuck tried again, half-heartedly before resigning himself to their destination. He resolutely ignored the topic of the alleyway, and was soon amusing his friend with recent tales of his superior card playing abilities as they sat waiting for their ride. Apollo had resigned himself to a relatively early night, when the Stamphalian cadets walked in.

Apollo nodded briefly at the cadets as they entered, but his tension mounted as he noticed the third man in the door was Ortega. Ortega's eyes swept over Apollo indifferently, but a scowl crossed his features as he noticed Starbuck on the other side.

"Well, well, look what the felix has dragged in." Starbuck muttered, slouched down with his head resting against the back of the seat and his feet crossed at the ankles.

"Easy." Apollo returned quietly, sitting up erect and alert. _Frack! The last time he had ended up between these two, he had ended up with a cracked mandible._

"Starbuck, I didn't think Zoltan let you off the leash away from the Academy." Ortega sneered.

"As long as I don't bite anyone, Ortega." Starbuck replied with a faint smile.

Apollo gazed at Starbuck meaningfully. He did NOT want a repeat performance of their last close encounter with Ortega. Starbuck merely smiled back at him a little more broadly, as if he was amused at the glare he was receiving.

"We saw Rhea and Eryn out on the prowl." Ortega mentioned off-handedly in a thick, alcoholic voice. "I guess you guys are getting too lame for the Phoenix floozies."

Apollo bristled at the remark. He jumped to his feet in defense of the women. "Would you care to repeat that accusation?"

"Hey, what happened to 'easy'?" Starbuck asked from his reclining position.

"Which accusation?" Ortega asked with a smirk. "That they're floozies or that you're lame?"

"He's got a point." Starbuck added. "I'd hit him for either one though, Apollo. Mind you, I'd hit him for his bad breath and his colour-coded underwear first."

"What colour-coded underwear?" Apollo asked expectantly.

"Yellow in the front, brown in the back." Starbuck explained patiently, his grin spreading as he saw Ortega's face turn bright red.

Ortega lurched towards Starbuck, but was surprised to find himself suddenly lying face first on the floor with an arm twisted behind his back, Apollo's knee firmly inserted in his back.

"Hey, nice move! How come we have to wait for third yahren to learn that?" Starbuck declared climbing to his feet. "Did you guys see that?" he asked the Stamphalians. "Pure artistry."

"Get him . . . off!" Ortega shouted to his friends from the filthy floor of the transport station.

"You might want to listen to him. After all, there's three of us." Kardon mentioned as he advanced on Apollo, his squadron mate right behind him.

"Oh, well. Maybe you'll think to bring some back-up next time." Starbuck grinned, his adrenaline rushing through his veins, propelling the alcohol ahead of it. _Yeehaw! _He stepped forward and threw himself into Kardon, trying to imitate Apollo's move.

Apollo, distracted by the sudden action, felt Ortega twist violently below him. He grasped the inebriated man more securely, as he again turned to see what was happening. Starbuck and Kardon were thrashing about on the floor, each man trying to gain the advantage.

The third man, Orcus, crashed down on top of Apollo, knocking him off of Ortega. The three men ended up in a confused mass of limbs entangled beneath the seats as they each struggled to be the first on his feet.

A screeching whistle abruptly sounded and the five young men froze and looked up to see the Civil Security Officers entering the station. "Stay where you are!" they ordered as they trained their tasers on the cadets.

Starbuck looked over at Apollo with a rueful grin, knowing they were about to be reported to the Academy and then transported back under guard to spend a night in the brig. One of the several things he had learned about the commander's son that night was, he sure knew how to have a good time!

_RETURN TO PRESENT_

A latch at the end of the corridor clanked, breaking Starbuck's reverie. Then footfalls, the steady, brisk _clap_ of military boots against the hard floor. Two pair, at least, Starbuck mused, as he swung his feet over the edge of the cot and sat facing the barred door to the cell. Unlike the previous times he'd been confined to the brig and lectured by a senior officer – a grand total of five occasions in the past three yahrens -- he felt his heart pounding against his chest in anticipation. And it wasn't because he stood a good chance of being grounded, given two black marks in as many days. No . . .

A snippet of conversation echoed in his memory: _"If this works out as planned, gentlemen, we will have a new contract and will be assured a comfortable retirement." _Okay, sure, there _had_ to be a logical explanation as to why the top Academy brass were making an arms contract at such a ungodly centar in a locked hangar . . . and --

"Attention!" The security officer swung the cell door open and snapped ramrod-straight against it. A moment later, Sergeant Brand strolled to the threshold and stopped, glaring as Starbuck hastily scrambled to his feet.

For a long centon, the sergeant stared at the wayward cadet, as if daring him to move. Starbuck held himself at rigid attention, unblinking and barely breathing as he waited. In three yahrens, he had learned to bow to authority when he had no choice – and the alternative was worse. Putting up with the military felgercarb came with the territory when one toed the line, as he often did. Hades, it was the thrill of successfully sidestepping the pesky rules, such as the curfew, that made the mong worth it.

"Forget the time, did we, cadet?" Brand sneered. "Or are you just stupid enough to be strolling across the compound two centars past curfew for the Hades of it?" To a first-yahren cadet, the man was the epitome of the classic drill sergeant and could scare the crap out the faint of heart with a mere glance. Starbuck had long suspected that he deliberately cultivated his appearance, which seemed straight from a old early-era war holovid, with his close-cropped hair, steely blue-grey eyes, arched nose, and habit of barking his sentences, not unlike an angry Pit-Taurus.

"Or maybe you think you're above the regulations." The sergeant's eyes narrowed. Starbuck also suspected that the reason Brand had been at the Academy for so long – ten yahrens, he'd heard – was because this was the only place where he could legally abuse his subordinates, be it verbally, psychologically, or physically, within some less-than-clearly-defined limits. Within two sectars of his first yahren, Starbuck had learned the man thrived on confrontation and fear; thus, the best way to survive an "encounter with the sergeant" was to give total compliance and no reaction.

Brand took two long strides, until he was nose to nose with Starbuck. The sergeant's eyes pierced the cadet's, and the vein on the side of his neck pulsed as he clenched his teeth. Sucking in a breath, he roared, "This is two nights – two nights! – that you've been out of the barracks! And don't give me any of that mong about studying with the commander's son. Felgercarb! You were no more in that room studying last night than you were tonight. And I know it!"

Starbuck met the man's gaze and used every millitron of his resolve to resist taking a step back. A warning klaxon was ringing in the back of his mind as he noted, at such a close proximity, the tiny beads of sweat on the man's forehead and neck and the twitching of the muscle in his cheek. Usually, beneath even the loudest of rants, the sergeant's sadistic pleasure crept through, be it a slight twist to his lip or a gleam in his eyes. This time, Starbuck suddenly realized, something was different.

Brand inhaled slowly, then lowered his voice to a menacing growl. "All right. You wanna be out in the dark enjoying the fresh air, then I can arrange that. I want ten laps around the track!" He took a step forward, forcing Starbuck to retreat. The cadet's legs hit the cot, and he lost his footing. Before he could fall, however, the sergeant grabbed his arm and yanked him back up, then used the momentum to thrust him towards the cell door.

"Out!" Brand yelled, as Starbuck stumbled but managed to regain his balance – almost. Brand shoved once more, sending him sprawling across the threshold. The guard continued to stare straight ahead but stepped to the side as the cadet tumbled past him. Starbuck ignored the pain that shot through his elbow as he crashed into the floor; he didn't have time to do anything else, because Brand was advancing on him with a scowl, fists clenched, his body tense.

"Move!" The sergeant barked. Starbuck tried to scramble to his feet, but Brand kicked at his legs, sending him tumbling down again. "I said move!"

Starbuck snapped into full survival mode, rolling to the side and to his feet, just barely avoiding the vicious kick that had been aimed at his ribs. For the briefest of microns, as the cadet glanced at his superior before hurrying down the corridor, their eyes locked, and Starbuck, his instincts on full alert, _knew_ what the difference was. The man was furious – that much was obvious – but something else was driving his rage this time, too.

"Get your goll-monging astrum out there and _run_!" Brand's voice bellowed at him as Starbuck shoved through the security office doors and out into the cold night. With the sergeant on his heels, he jogged towards the training track. "You've got twenty centons!"

_Frak!_ The track was a half kilometron in length, but he knew Brand would be timing him. And if he was so much as a micron too slow . . . well . . . he didn't want to consider what the man might do right now. So he sucked in a breath and sprinted until he found the pace that he knew would get him around the compound within the required time constraint. He was fit; a four centon kilometron was doable. Except he didn't normally run laps in his military boots. Starbuck sighed inwardly and focused on his pace. As he past the starting point and his superior, Brand's scowl indicted that he was on the mark.

One lap down – nine to go. He hoped. Unless Brand decided to add more laps just out of spite.

Starbuck put his body on autopilot and let his mind consider his situation. Besides, his boots were already biting into his heels and ankles; he needed a distraction. So he replayed Brand's reaction in his head. Perhaps he had misread the sergeant, but the more he reflected on it, the more he was convinced that he was right, not just about Brand, but about everything -- the sergeant, the colonel, and dirty deal they were intending to pull off. He was certain, because in the instant that Starbuck had locked eyes with the man that last time, he had read one other emotion beneath the rage.

Fear.

He swallowed the large lump that had formed in his throat. He kind of knew how Brand felt. Hades, he had seen the sergeant intimidate cadets before, but not quite like that. Frack, he was sure the man was going to take him outside and beat the mong out of him. Probably why he had run so fast. He wanted to make it to the track alive.

"Move it, Cadet!" Brand barked.

Starbuck passed him by again. He wasn't sure if he had dropped his pace or if the man was just being his usual threatening self. Why hadn't he looked at his chronometer when he started the circuit? _A little distracted, Bucko?_ He checked it now and decided to time his next lap. That would tell him how he was doing. _Only four left. C'mon, you can do it._

He realized that Brand was alone on the track with him. Lords, the Academy was a desolate place at night. For the first time in his short military career, that was a problem. The mere thought of finishing his five kilometron run and having his final confrontation with the sergeant had him wanting to leave the track and run back to . . . _Where Starbuck? Where would you go? Just what is left for you if you can't cut it as a viper pilot?_

How many times had he asked himself the same questions? How many times had he been close to quitting or getting thrown out? Frack, too many times. Each time he had realized that if he didn't get his act together, he would end up as some two-bit gambler working the circuit from Caprica to Virgon.

He glanced down at his chrono. Three centons, eight microns. Hades, he was surpassing his personal best if this was an average. Something about an abusive, corrupt, angry drill sergeant to propel him onward and upward. How motivational!

"Stop dragging your astum, Cadet!" Brand yelled at him.

_Dragging his astrum?_ _Lords, he was in trouble. Just what did Brand have in store for him?_ He picked up his pace again, coughing briefly as the cold air irritated his lungs. Well, at least he wasn't carrying the usual loaded-down backpack from Hades Hole. Right, things could be worse. Yeah, sure they could.

Starbuck could see Brand staring him down as he headed past him for his last lap. Another man was approaching the track from the direction of the Security office. Starbuck didn't recognize him. Brand saw the man approach and beckoned for him to hurry.

The sergeant switched his attention back to the cadet. "Okay, pick it up, Cadet! I want this final lap to be in under three centons, or you'll be doing it all over again! Move it!" Brand hollered.

Starbuck picked up the pace again. His feet weren't going to forgive him for this. Why couldn't he have been wearing his old comfortable boots that would have been more forgiving when he took them out for a jog? _Right, you wanted to look sharp for Imara. You're a slave to fashion, Bucko. _

A slight grin crossed his face at that thought. Dress up or dress down. Not a lot of options as a third-yahren cadet. Oh, right, the dress cape. Yep, un-tuck the usual tunic and throw a cape over it. Now that was high-living!

He pushed himself yet again as he rounded the last quarter of the track. The man Brand had been talking to had already left. So much for the faint hope that there would be someone else present as a witness . . . _Just remember, this was all for a girl, pal._ He shook his head slightly. Women were trouble, pure and simple.

Brand was alternating between glaring at the cadet and peering at his chrono. He stood at the edge of the track and watched as Starbuck sprinted the last hundred metrons. His lip curled into a snarl as the cadet raced passed him, jogging to a gradual stop.

"You're out of shape, Cadet Starbuck! That was a disgusting performance! Over here _now_!" He bellowed at Starbuck.

Starbuck's heart raced as he circled back to the sergeant. He could feel the sweat trickling down his temples as he quickly wiped his brow and came to attention in front of Brand. There was no way in Hades that he took over three centons to run that lap! Frack!

"Now, why were you out of the barracks at this centar?" Brand yelled as he came nose to nose with the cadet.

Starbuck bit his bottom lip as he caught his breath. What had the unknown man said to the sergeant? Brand looked a little less sure of himself somehow. Almost as if he was still trying to ascertain whether or not the cadet had been the one in the hangar. Maybe someone else had been caught out of barracks? It wasn't as if he was the only one who moonlighted for a little romance. Lords, what if it was Imara they had caught?

"No?" Brand bellowed again. "Drop and give me fifty! NOW!"

Starbuck looked down at the ground beneath him. The frozen, mucky, wet ground. The track, which was relatively clean and dry, was just a half metron to his right and if he just moved a bit . . .

"Don't even think about it." Brand's voice was low and menacing as he leaned in towards the cadet's ear. "DROP!"

Starbuck jumped at the sudden shriek in his ear. He abruptly dropped to the ground and started doing push-ups. Was it a subtle change he detected in the sergeant or not? What was going through the man's head?

"Straighten your back! Astrum down! Frack, you'd think this is the first time you ever did a push-up!" Brand squatted down beside him. "I want to see your chest barely touch the ground, Cadet!" he growled.

Starbuck knew his form was impeccable. Hades, he had done so many push-ups, they were considering putting his picture beside the phrase in the Academy Librarium reference source. Thank the Lords, his vast amount of experience was paying off. Twenty-two, twenty three . . .

"C'mon, astrum-wipe, I said, chest on the ground! Afraid to get a little dirty, boy?" Brand stood beside the cadet, resting a boot on his back and applying pressure.

_Frack!_ Starbuck tensed his muscles against the added weight. He was going to be face first in the mud if Brand didn't lay off. Doing push-ups was nothing if you had momentum working for you. However, going slow and tortuously was another matter all together. Thirty-five, thirty-six . . .

"You never did understand that we have rules for a reason, did you, boy? Don't you know the dangers of being in an un-secure area after dark? Haven't you heard of terrorism, cadet? A young, naïve, inexperienced kid like yourself could get hurt out here." Brand told him as he increased the pressure on the cadet's back. "Wouldn't want that to happen, would we?"

"No, sir!" Starbuck spat out, his face millimicrons from the mud. He could feel the hair on the back of his neck sticking up. _Oh_ _Lord, I'll do anything you ask tomorrow if you just get me through . . . _ Forty-eight, forty-nine . . .

Brand's foot pressed down on the cadet's back with all of the Pit-Taurus' considerable strength and weight. Starbuck slammed into the frozen ground, fleetingly thankful that the cold had altered the usual consistency of the muck and mire.

"Fifty." Brand said in a chilling voice, his combat boot still firmly entrenched between the cadet's shoulder blades. "You want to do that again or are you going to tell me where you were tonight?"

Starbuck briefly wondered if the sergeant was referring to being slammed into the ground or just doing push-ups, before he croaked, "I was . . . with a girl." He felt the pressure ease up a bit, allowing his lungs to expand once again.

"Where?"

Now that was strange. He would have thought that the sergeant would want to know 'who', not 'where'. "In the trees . . . " Starbuck replied. Well, they had ended up there.

"Were you with the Colonel's daughter again, Cadet?" Brand snapped.

Again, the pressure on Starbuck's shoulders increased. He wondered if his body would leave a permanent dent in the terrain next to the track, as his face dug into the frozen mud. Chances were they had caught Imara too. "Yes . . . " His breath was expelled forcefully as Brand ground his boot into the cadet's back. " . . . Sir . . . " he gasped. The pressure eased again, to be abruptly replaced by a knee.

"Listen to me, boy. Listen very carefully. I won't repeat it again." A fist grabbed his hair and twisted his face so piercing blue eyes could stare into his own. "Colonel Diallo is a personal friend of mine who doesn't appreciate a guttersnipe like you messing with his daughter. Do you understand?"

Starbuck winced as his neck was forced to arch painfully to meet the menacing gaze. He blinked as he considered the irony that Imara didn't want to see him anymore anyway.

"Do you understand?" Brand yelled at the cadet.

"Yes, Sir." Starbuck returned.

"If I catch wind of you even so much as sniffing around the Colonel's daughter again, I'll make what you've just been through seem like a walk in the park." He thundered into Starbuck's ear.

Abruptly, Brand lifted his bulk off the cadet and walked away. Starbuck took a few deep breaths as he lay on the frozen ground trying to figure out what exactly had just happened. Well, now that he was still alive, what was he supposed to do next?


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Sometimes things just went from bad to worse. Starbuck had been considering that he should probably try to get away from the track and sneak back into barracks as he lifted his bruised and half-frozen carcass from the ground. That was when Officer Keane had shown up.

Now, he was being marched up the steps of the Argus Building on a direct path to his flight leader's door. After all, it was the second time in so many days that he had landed in the brig, and, as such, protocol required that he be released into the custody of his squadron leader.

Apollo was going to kill him.

Keane came to an abrupt stop in front of Apollo and Quinn's room. He rapped sharply on the door as he sneered at the cadet who was pulling himself erect as they awaited an answer.

The door opened a crack and a weary Quinn peered out. "It's for you," he muttered to Apollo, as he swung the door wide open to reveal Keane and Starbuck. He shook his head briefly at Starbuck and then returned to his bunk.

Apollo sat up sighing. _Again? What the frack was Starbuck trying to do? Lords, he'd have to loan him out to Sergeant Lennick again to dismantle Starfighters piece by piece and inventory the parts. Or maybe he would send Starbuck to the store room to reorganize all the parts that had found their way into various bins and storage containers because no one had bothered to put them back where they belonged in the first place. Yeah, Starbuck would really hate that. _"Officer Keane," Apollo nodded at the man as he pulled on his pants and stepped into the corridor. It was fracking cold.

"Cadet Apollo. Cadet Starbuck was discovered out after curfew. I'm sure you understand the ramifications of this. Sergeant Brand asked that I stress the seriousness of the situation."

Apollo nodded curtly. "Thank you, Officer Keane. I'm well aware of that. Where is Sergeant Brand? I would have thought he would have delivered the cadet himself." Apollo asked. It was damn unusual that Brand wouldn't take the opportunity to gloat. Especially after actually catching Starbuck. Apparently, his friend was getting sloppy.

"Same place we all should be, Cadet Apollo, in bed." Keane replied as he nodded and turned sharply. "Relinquishing custody," he snapped as he left.

Apollo faced Starbuck, who, to his credit, was maintaining a strict military position and keeping his mouth shut. He obviously had a good idea just how irate the flight leader was feeling just now. Hades, he had to be up in a few centars to prepare for the survival training. He had been hoping for a decent night's sleep before leading his squadron through the maneuvers that he and Imara had planned. Apollo found himself actually circling his friend in a tack that was reminiscent of Diallo. He snorted at the thought of imitating the Colonel and then faced the wayward cadet again as Keane disappeared down the stairs, far from earshot.

"Just what the frack do you think you're doing? You know that if you get hauled to the brig again that they'll ground you!" He squinted in the dim light taking in the grime on Starbuck's face and the state of his filthy uniform. "What the frack happened to you anyway?" His voice lowered as he studied his unshakable friend.

"Brand." Starbuck replied as he met Apollo's searching gaze. The Phoenix leader didn't seem to know whether to be angry or concerned. "A 5K run and then fifty push-ups. With his boot on my back," he finished quietly.

"You seem to be exceptionally good at pissing the man off, Starbuck." Apollo commented as he considered the information. The run and the push-ups were apropos. The boot on the back, however . . . He had heard that Brand could take things a bit too far sometimes. "Are you okay?"

Starbuck nodded as he again considered telling Apollo everything he knew. Hades, just to have someone to share the burden of the information with would be a relief. Maybe Apollo would listen to him. Actually hear him out and agree that he wasn't way off base with his conclusions. After all, Apollo knew him well enough that . . .

"Look, I still have to be up at 0430 to get the final arrangements made for the mission. Some of us take our responsibilities seriously, Starbuck." Apollo told him, noting for a micron the strange look that passed over his friend's face. "We'll talk disciplinary duties in the morning." He looked meaningfully at his chronometer. "Later in the morning, after I sort out the rest of my duties."

Then again, maybe Apollo didn't know him as well as he had assumed. Starbuck nodded, dropping his gaze to his boots. His feet were throbbing. Fracking combat boots.

"Dismissed." Apollo added formally, dying to get back to his bunk. He'd be glad when the maneuvers were over. This extra training mission was taking up an ungodly amount of his spare time. Must be nice to have the time to traipse around the grounds with Imara. Lords, how did Imara find the time? He stepped back inside his room and softly closed his door, hearing a subdued "yes, sir" as it clicked shut. He paused for a long moment and then opened it again.

Starbuck was gone.

_FLASHBACK_

Apollo closed his door again. He chewed his lip as he thought back over the last few centons. He was sure he had missed . . . something.

It was one of those things about Starbuck, sometimes you really had to read between the lines like you were doing one of those cryptic word-puzzles. Starbuck, on the surface, seemed to be a straight-ahead, you-get-what-you-see kind of guy. But, like most other people, once you got to know him, there was a lot more to him. For some reason though, that often surprised people, Apollo included. Starbuck almost seemed to encourage the superficial persona he projected. Apollo wondered if it was a way to keep others at a comfortable distance.

The Phoenix leader sighed as he climbed back into his bunk. Yeah, he had missed something. That look that flickered across his friend's face when he had blurted out something about responsibility. That was when Starbuck had shut down on him. Apollo had gone from asking him if he was okay to berating him for screwing up.

He flopped his head back on the pillow. The rigors of command. Sometimes it was difficult to be both friend and squadron leader. He wasn't sure how to separate the two. It was something he should talk to his father about. If anyone should have some advice to offer on separating leadership and friendship, Commander Adama should.

As usual, Adama was far away. Probably half way across the solar-system. That was one of the problems with having a father in the military, he was seldom around to ask those pertinent questions of when you needed to.

Lords, was that the kind of father he wanted to be? Not that Adama wasn't a great man . . . and father, he supposed, not really having anything to compare it to, but did he want his family growing up planetside while he was off cruising the galaxy?

He vividly recalled the pride he had felt when other children had told him how amazing it must have been to have a father who was a distinguished leader of men in the Colonial Service. Conversely, he still recalled the envy he felt when friends told him they had gone to a triad game, or hiking, or fishing, or any other number of father-son events that he had largely missed out on.

But . . . at least he had a family. He thought back to just a few sectars ago, when he had finally realized that Starbuck had been orphaned. Again, he had just thought that he knew everything about Starbuck, so when he had become the Phoenix squadron leader at the beginning of his final yahren at the Academy, he hadn't delved into Starbuck's records. One needed to be either squadron leader or second-in-command to have access to the files, and he had simply passed over Starbuck's file, aware that there were other cadets transferred into Phoenix that he didn't know at all. It was those files that he was reading, not the friends' that he already knew from the previous yahren.

He pulled his blanket up around himself again as he thought back to the Harvest Festival. He had just approved leaves for a third of his squadron. It was one of the duties he had always enjoyed, as posted leaves were a happy occasion. And being with your family during Harvest Fest was a time honoured tradition for Capricans.

With that in mind, he had automatically given leaves to the Capricans, knowing that there would be other holidays that would hold more importance to other peoples. So, when Starbuck had shown up wearing that annoyed mien, Apollo hadn't been expecting it. Funny, it seemed almost like yesterday . . .

"Apollo!" Starbuck was taking the steps two at a time as he saw his squadron leader ahead of him.

Apollo looked down the stairwell and saw the cadet bounding up behind him and waited patiently at the top. He had just finished posting the latest leaves for the long secton-end for Harvest Festival. He knew Starbuck's name was on the list, but oddly enough, the cadet didn't look too happy about it.

"Is it too late to change my leave?" Starbuck asked him.

"Change your leave? Why?" Apollo asked bewildered.

"Uh . . . well, there's a big card game this secton-end that I wanted to be in on. I wasn't planning on getting time off now. My leave isn't supposed to come up for a couple sectars."

"Well, I gave leave to mainly Capricans since it's Harvest Fest." Apollo explained.

"Hades, it's also Autumnal Equinox on Scorpio and Cornu Corpiae on Virgon. Couldn't you give leave to Dorado or Rhea?"

"Are you serious?" Apollo asked, a little astounded. Lords, Starbuck was usually first in line to get out of the Academy for a secton-end.

"Sure." Starbuck shrugged. "Hey, Rhea could even catch a flip home in time to partake in the big family dinner. Roasted meleagris and fresh harvest vegetables. A far cry from what the mess will be putting together, I'll bet."

"So, you're saying, if I give you leave, you're intending to stay here anyway? At least if I give Rhea leave, she'll go home to see her family."

"Right. The more cadets you get rid of, the less mouths for the Academy to feed. It's all about economics really. You should have learned that by now in leadership training, Apollo." Starbuck continued.

"What about Dorado?" Apollo asked after a pause to consider Starbuck's statement. He decided to ignore it.

"Well, his sister will be in Saturna for the Harvest Fest. Again, a short flip . . . " Starbuck shrugged.

"One less mouth for the academy to feed." Apollo concluded.

"Right."

"Just how much are you intending to eat at the Harvest Festival Dinner, Starbuck?" Apollo asked with a grin. "Since it's all about economics."

"Hades, that's when the game is. Just give me a fumarello and a case of ale and I'll be fine." Starbuck grinned.

"What about your family?" Apollo asked, leaning against the wall. This would probably take a while.

"My family?" Starbuck narrowed his eyes searchingly.

"Yeah. Your family."

Starbuck smiled. "Good point. What about _your_ family? Hades, they live close by, don't they? Why aren't you taking leave now?"

"Because I'm not due. You, however, are." Apollo pointed out.

"A centon ago you told me it was about sending Capricans on leave during Harvest Fest. Now you're saying it's all about the rotation of leaves?" Starbuck replied. "C'mon, you're Caprican and your family is here in Caprica City. Aren't they? Why don't you rotate your astrum out of here for some leave?"

"Because it's not my turn. You didn't answer my . . . "

Starbuck cut him off. "Then there's the new kids in the squadron. Lords, Junius and Tani are so homesick you'd think this was their first yahren, not their second. Why don't you send them?"

Apollo held his hand up to stop the endless stream of meaningless conversation coming out of his friend's mouth.

"What?" Starbuck asked.

"Why don't you want leave, Starbuck? Cut the felgercarb and tell me straight."

Starbuck looked at him with surprise. How did Apollo know he was feeding him a line of mong that would have made an agro community envious? Hades, frazzling them with felgercarb had worked on just about everyone else he had ever known.

His shoulders drooped fractionally as he considered what to try next. Apollo looked like he was quite willing to lean up against that wall until he told him the truth. Frack, he hated talking about being orphaned. That bloody pitying look that people gave him was enough to make him toss his mushies. And then they wanted the details.

Apollo raised his eyebrows slightly, just to remind Starbuck that he was waiting. As nice as it was that the cadet wanted Rhea, Dorado, Junius, Tani or even the Phoenix leader to have leave instead, it just didn't make sense. Ten to one, as Starbuck often said, the cadet was up to something.

Starbuck sighed and shook his head slightly. "Fine. Harvest Festival is a family celebration and I don't have any family. I'd rather be here playing cards. Okay?"

"Why didn't you just say so to begin with?" Apollo asked with a shrug.

Starbuck studied Apollo for a moment. "I prefer to maintain an aura of mystique." He answered with a rueful grin. No pitiful glance. No prying. How about that.

"Well, for future reference, telling it to me straight doesn't take as long. Economics is relevant in time as well as cubits, Starbuck." Apollo told him.

"I'll try to remember that." Starbuck replied. "Does that mean my leave is cancelled?"

"It does." Apollo nodded. "If that's the way you want it."

"It is." Starbuck nodded briefly and headed down the stairs. He looked back and paused, "Apollo! Thanks."

"You're welcome." He replied as he met his eyes. Starbuck smiled briefly before heading back downstairs. Yeah, sometimes it was all about what wasn't said, instead of what was.

_RETURN TO PRESENT_

A hand shook him roughly. Starbuck just barely lifted his face from the pillow, blearily blinking. "What?" he mumbled sleepily. He peered at his . . . wrist. Where the frack was his chronometer?

"Survival training mission." Dorado replied. "Remember?"

"Right. What time is it?" He rolled his neck wincing as stiff muscles reminded him that Brand had been dancing on his neck and back the night before . . . No, it was earlier that morning. Frack, no wonder _morning_ and _mourning_ were so damn similar. What a despicable time of day.

"0530. We have to be at the shuttle at 0600. You better get moving if you're gonna get to the mess hall." Dorado told him as he pulled on his flight jacket.

"I'll be right there." Starbuck replied. The one good thing about being face down in the frozen mud not that many centars ago, was he had taken a turbo wash when he had arrived back in the barracks.

"I'll see you there. I want an option for second helpings if we're going to be hiking through the woods all day long." Dorado told him, rubbing his belly.

"You're a slave to your stomach, Dorado." Starbuck muttered as he sat up on his bunk. He rubbed his neck, trying to ease the knot that was threatening to jerk his right shoulder up to a new anatomical location just under his ear.

"You okay?" Dorado asked as he considered his squadron mate. "You look like you've gone a round with Ortega again. Or maybe Imara is just more than you can handle?" he grinned lecherously. "Hey, if you need any help with her . . . "

Starbuck simply glared at him in response.

"No? Well, if you change your mind . . . " Dorado grinned ear to ear and then ducked suddenly when a crusty boot flew directly at his head. " . . . you'll know where to find me."

Starbuck grimaced as he stood up, listening to Dorado's laughter as he left the bunkroom. The other cadets were in various degrees of readiness. How he wished he could be one of the blessed few that were still asleep, secure in the knowledge that their survival mission was not until the following secton.

He wandered into the turbo wash in search of his elusive chrono, stretching out sore and stiff muscles in his back and neck. Sure enough, it was there. Covered in mud, but working all the same. _Despite the grime, it keeps the time._ He smiled as he thought about submitting it to the Chronex Corporation as a possible logo. A nice, fat royalty credit might be able to save his astrum from a lifetime of 0530 mornings. He sighed heavily. A bit late for that now, Bucko.

He quickly got dressed and pulled out his boots. The old, comfortable ones. Not the ones that would continue to aggravate the huge blister on his right foot and the raw, sticky area on his left. He examined his heels, one foot folded across his knee, wondering if he had time to drop by the infirmary before he went to the mess. Probably not. Not like a regeneration treatment would do anything in five centons anyway. With the relatively new technology, it would likely take centars.

"Starbuck!" Apollo called out as he wandered into the room. His eyes immediately took in the cadet's feet as he strode over to his bunk. "What in Hades were you wearing?" He winced involuntarily and started searching for a medical kit.

"New boots." Starbuck remarked briefly.

"Ever hear of breaking them in?" Apollo retorted, shaking his head as he sat down beside the cadet and opened the kit.

"There's a concept." Starbuck returned sarcastically, watching Apollo suspiciously. "What are you doing?"

"We're going to be hiking all day. We'd better patch up your feet or you'll be in sad shape by the end of the day."

"Couldn't you just . . . excuse me? On medical grounds?" Starbuck smiled faintly. He gazed longingly at his pillow.

"No." Apollo pulled out some gauze and pored an acrid smelling liquid on it. "Here," he handed it to Starbuck. "Clean them."

"You want _me_ to do it?" Starbuck asked as if the very idea was ludicrous.

"I'm your squadron leader, not your mother." Apollo replied, and then nearly bit his lip clean through when he realized the implication of his words.

Starbuck, however, snorted in reply. "Thankfully. Wouldn't want to inherit that _thing_ with your hair." He took the pads from Apollo, cautiously smelling them and wrinkling up his nose.

"What _thing_?" Apollo asked as he watched Starbuck tentatively apply gauze to foot.

"Frack! What is that? It stings like Hades!" Starbuck asked, dropping the gauze on his bunk as if it was a venomous serpent.

"Oh, the mighty warrior." Apollo teased him, grabbing him by the ankle and retrieving the abandoned gauze. "What _thing_ with my hair?" He thoroughly cleaned the excoriated flesh.

"Ouch! You're worse than Brand." Starbuck accused him, regaining possession of his foot. "You know. You're the one looking in the mirror every day."

Apollo raised his eyebrows. "I don't know what you're talking about." He pointed to Starbuck's other foot. "We're going to have to remove that blister. Otherwise it'll just rub itself raw and then burst. Might as well take care of it now." He pulled a sharp blade out of the medical kit and removed it from its sterile packaging.

Starbuck stood up immediately. "Uh, I think it will be fine. It's feeling a lot better already."

"I know what I'm doing, Starbuck. Sagan's sake, it's just a blister, not a laser wound." Apollo grinned at the anxiety on his friend's face.

"All the same . . . "

"Would you rather I do it now, or in the middle of maneuvers?" Apollo asked him.

Starbuck sighed as he watched the Phoenix leader. When Apollo got that determined look on his face, there wasn't much point in arguing with him. Especially, if you wanted to make it to the mess for breakfast before leaving on the mission. He reluctantly sat down on his bunk again putting his foot somewhat near Apollo.

Apollo grabbed some more gauze and cleaned the blistered heel. "This shouldn't hurt . . . much." Apollo grinned at the pained look his friend gave him as he prepared himself for the blade to penetrate his skin. "So, what's this about my hair?" He lowered blade to blister.

"You have lovely hair, Apollo." Starbuck replied dramatically with a forced grin as the blade cut into his flesh. Actually, it didn't hurt at all. He tried to relax as he watched the minor surgery.

"_Lovely_ hair? Really?" Apollo asked with a smirk, as he cut away the dead skin. Serous fluid ran over the ankle.

"Yeah, all shiny and . . . brown." Starbuck elaborated with a rueful grin. "With wings." He made a flipping motion in the air with his hands.

"Wings?" Apollo looked at him. So this was the _thing_ about his hair. He apparently had wings.

"Flaps?" Starbuck shrugged. Wings, flaps, it didn't matter. A decent haircut should take care of it. _Off_ the Academy grounds.

Apollo considered his friend tolerantly and rolled his eyes. Well, at least that was out of the way. Now, the reason he came to see Starbuck before the mission . . .

"Hey, about last night . . . I got the idea you wanted to . . . I don't know . . . maybe talk about something. Did you?" He again cleaned the area with a gauze pad and reached back into the medical kit for some epithelial patches.

Starbuck's mind raced as he yet again wondered what to say to Apollo. Now, especially in sight of the fact that Imara wanted nothing to do with him, how could he explain without making himself sound petty and bitter? He suspected that Apollo had already seen Imara that morning, since they were organizing the mission together. He looked up to see Apollo studying him intently.

"Is it about Imara?" Apollo asked.

"What did she say?" Starbuck asked bluntly.

"Nothing. She just seemed . . . distracted." Apollo replied as he pressed an epithelial patch to Starbuck's heel. She had actually seemed tired, distracted and angry. All three symptoms seemed to be consistent with a diagnosis of being stricken by Starbuck, in some way, shape or form. Apollo knew he had to tread carefully here. After all, he considered both of them friends.

Starbuck sighed as he rested his other foot on the bed and watched Apollo apply a second patch. "She doesn't want to see me again."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Apollo asked hesitantly, unsure if he really wanted to hear the lurid details.

Starbuck paused as he pulled on socks and boots. He looked around to see various cadets vaguely paying attention to them as they tried to doze off again. Funny, he had this strange feeling he was forgetting something. He looked at his chrono. Lords, he better get moving if he was going to get some food before they left.

"Maybe later. There _is_ something I wanted to talk to you about, but it's . . . "

A scream filled the air, coming from the turbo wash, and effectively cutting off Starbuck's words. Apollo abruptly jumped up, rushing into the steam filled room. A small crowd had gathered already, most of them chuckling in amusement as they turned towards the Phoenix leader.

"Where is he? Where the frackin' Hades Hole is he?" Ortega screeched as he pushed his way through the crowd of onlookers and shoved past Apollo. He stormed into the bunkroom. "STARBUCK! I'm going to frackin' kill you for this!"

Apollo covered his mouth with his hand, trying to hide his mirth as he followed Ortega back into the bunkroom. He had almost forgotten that Ortega had reported seeing Starbuck and Imara together to some officer or another. It had been the stimulus that had set the chain of events in motion, at least the way Starbuck told the story. Ortega charged through the quarters with his towel around his waist and his hair the most startling shade of purple that the squadron leader had ever seen.

Starbuck, coincidentally, had clearly left the premises, his revenge executed.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

It was shaping up to be another brisk, damp Caprica City day. Starbuck laid his protein rolls on his bread, added a big scoop of scrambled ovum, applied a liberal dose of brown sauce, topped it with another slice of bread, and headed for the shuttles on Dorado's heels. Dorado was shaking his head at Starbuck in disgust.

"The things you do to food are just revolting." He eyed Starbuck's breakfast.

"What's wrong with this?" Starbuck asked him around a mouthful of breakfast. "You ate the same thing. Twice."

"Separately and without that disgusting sauce you seem to like so much." Dorado commented.

"It's the only thing that has any flavour." Starbuck replied and took another bite. "What time do you have?"

"0555. We'll make it. Just don't choke on your protein roll."

"Do you think it would get me out of this mission if I did?" Starbuck mumbled.

"No." Dorado returned and then hesitated. "Well, maybe if you died."

"So, there is hope?"

"Yeah, it would also save Ortega the trouble of killing you. I'd watch my back out there today, if I were you." Dorado warned him.

"I know. I'll be alert for any large purple flowers carrying a gun."

They made their way to the launch site where the squadrons were amassed with their assigned shuttles. Starbuck and Dorado joined the other members of Phoenix who were already being briefed by Apollo and Quinn.

Apollo paused as he waited for them to join the small circle of cadets. He nodded at them as they both checked their chrono's. "No, you're not late. We're just giving a weather report."

"Do we get to find out where we're going now?" Starbuck asked.

"The other side of the planet. Mazuria." Apollo replied.

"Where?" Starbuck asked again with a perplexed expression.

"Mazuria." Quinn replied with a grin. "Don't worry, they recently changed the name of the country. That's why you haven't heard of it. It used to be called Chobataria."

"And will be again if the Chobatars have anything to say about it." Rhea added.

"Aren't they having a civil war, Apollo? Couldn't we have chosen a little less violent corner of Caprica? Maybe the tropics?" Starbuck suggested hopefully.

"Well, Mazuria is a huge country with a very small population all predominantly living . . . " he pointed to the map, " . . . here. We are actually going to be about five hundred kilometrons from the action which places us here." He identified their position.

"Seems weird that we're at war with an alien civilization bent on the destruction of the human race and the Mazurs and Chobatars are still having a civil war to fight over hectares of jungle, reptiles and insects." Dorado mused.

"And their natural resources and drugs. The coca trade is huge. One of their largest exports." Apollo added.

"Illegal exports." Quinn clarified. "Besides the Chobatars and Mazurs have been fighting almost as long as we've been battling the Cylons. They've probably never laid eyes on a Cylon. Their own war is much more immediate."

"That's because a Cylon would rust in the humidity of the jungle." Dorado offered.

"Uh, did you clear it with the guerillas hiding in the Mazurian jungles that we're okay to be there?" Starbuck asked skeptically.

"Of course. We also cleared it with the Chobatars two sectons ago when they had control of the country." Quinn added with a smile. "Believe it or not, the Academy has been doing survival missions there for several deca-yahrens. They're quite happy to accommodate us, since we defend Chobataria . . . I mean, Mazuria, along with the rest of the planet, from the Cylons."

"I still think a good tropical destination is overdue." Starbuck added with a grin.

"I'll keep it in mind, Starbuck." Apollo informed him with a smile. "Now, today we're going to give the Global Coordinator System remote units a work out. We'll be assigning you to teams and specifically briefing you on your assignment via your datapads. Ultimately, we're after tokens, coincidentally, so are the other Squadrons."

"Why tokens?" Dorado asked.

"Tokens will be added up at the end of the day to determine which squadron found the most caches. Tokens don't rot. They also don't damage the environment and fit in these . . . " Apollo held up a small silver cylinder, " tylinium tubes. The squadron with the most tokens at the end of the day will be awarded secton-end passes." Apollo smiled as grins and nods infected his squadron.

"Your GCS units will direct you to your first objective. From there you will either find tokens or further clues. Let's make no mistake; this is a competition. For each objective we reach first, we accumulate tokens, but only if we can hand them over at the end of the day. When we arrive in Mazuria, we'll be distributing weapons and gear. Landrams will take us to our drop points and we'll have a rendezvous for 2000 centars tonight. It will be your responsibility to arrive there on time. Quinn." Apollo nodded towards his roommate and second-in-command.

Quinn nodded. "Here are your datapads." He started handing them out. "Again, during the flight, you will be briefed via your datapads as to your team, your objective, and any other relevant information we feel you need to complete your objective and find your tokens. Upon landing, you will report to your assigned landram and depart directly for your objective upon receipt of all necessary equipment. Questions?"

"Is it supposed to take all day to complete our objectives?" Dorado asked.

"Not necessarily. But, regardless, you have until 2000 to arrive there. For some of you that translates into an easier assignment and a longer journey and visa versa." Apollo replied. "Anything else?"

"Uh, just to play devil's advocate . . . " Starbuck began.

"Who better?" Dorado inserted.

"Let's say we arrive at our objective to find our tokens already gone. Anything to say we can't track the other teams and get them back?" Starbuck asked.

A slow smile spread across Apollo's face. He grinned at Quinn. "No Starbuck, nothing holding you back at all."

Quinn grimaced in return, wrinkling his nose in Starbuck's direction. "You'd better keep an eye on that boy." He remarked pointedly. "Just remember, the other squadrons are still going to be covering your butts in combat one day. This is supposed to be a friendly competition. All purple hair-dye is to be handed in to Flight Leader Apollo before we board." He grinned as Phoenix Squadron laughed. Starbuck proceeded to receive a few friendly claps on the shoulder . . . and one grope on his buttocks.

"Okay. Now listen up." Apollo ended their revelry. "It's hot and humid in Mazuria, so make sure you drink lots of water. Closely review the modules on plant and wildlife, and wilderness survival. You'll have plenty of time to read because it's going to take us fifty centons to get there. Let's load up. We'll be sharing a shuttle with Roc Squadron on Shuttlecraft CA 135."

Starbuck froze as his eyes swung over to the shuttle. Sure enough, CA 135. Hades, it was the same shuttle that Diallo and Brand had loaded the weapons on. Holy frack, maybe Imara was right. Maybe they were going to be trying out the new dual setting blasters on this survival mission. A sickening feeling settled in his stomach at the thought of losing Imara for . . . nothing.

Wait a micron, Bucko. They said they had their own rendezvous at 0800. That would be plenty of time to drop off cadets and get to another destination. Oh, frack. He'd have to wait it out and see what happened. If he was issued with a standard blaster, then he'd have to take it from there. If he was issued a modified dual-setting blaster . . . well . . .

Suddenly, a sharp blow struck between his shoulders. He immediately stumbled forward, whirling to see Sergeant Brand standing behind him.

"Are you still having difficulty in following orders, Cadet Starbuck? I believe Flight Leader Apollo instructed you to load up." Brand's grey-blue eyes glinted menacingly at him and a sneer curled his lip disdainfully. His eyes flickered briefly over the other cadets nearby who were intent on boarding the shuttle. He reached out and grabbed Starbuck's flight jacket, pulling him close. "I'll be watching you today, boy. Keep your nose clean." He abruptly let go of the cadet and Starbuck once again stumbled, this time backwards and into the solid, unmovable form of . . .

Starbuck turned around to see who had once again gripped the collar of his flight jacket. Colonel Diallo's ice blue eyes stared back at him from beneath his grey hair. "Having trouble keeping your balance this morning, cadet?"

"No, Sir." Starbuck responded, more by rote than by any ability to think rationally. Lords, Diallo and Brand were both there. Surely to God they weren't _both_ coming. Then again, if they were about to cut a deal that would ensure a comfortable retirement, maybe they would want to be there personally. A fluttering sensation in his stomach had him cursing his hastily devoured protein rolls.

"My daughter assures me that it's over between you two. You go near her again, and I'll make sure your sorry hide is rotting at the bottom of a serpent-pit somewhere in Mazuria. Is that clear, Cadet?" Diallo spoke slowly, softly and evenly. To anyone else watching, they wouldn't have a clue the Executive Officer of the Caprican Academy was uttering death threats to Starbuck.

Starbuck nodded. "Yes, Sir."

"Good. And I'd also abandon these nighttime romps around the base. You never do know what dangers lurk in the darkness." Diallo told him. "Understand?"

"Yes, Sir." Starbuck rasped. His mouth was bone-dry as he locked eyes with the officer. At least, it was just about Imara. He wondered what had transpired to make them think that all he and Imara had been up to the previous night was a little romance

. . . and a break-up.

Colonel Diallo released Starbuck's collar and straightened it, almost paternally. "Watch yourself out there, cadet. The jungle can swallow a man alive."

---------------------

Starbuck had reviewed every necessary module at least twice as he sat on shuttlecraft CA 135 surrounded by Phoenix and Roc cadets . . . and about as far as he could get from Imara.

Not that he hadn't tried to catch her eye as she boarded, mere microns behind him. She had shaken her head minutely and then subtly nodded toward Brand who was watching them with acute interest. By the way she was chewing her lip, he suspected she had seen his encounter with the Sergeant followed by the run-in with the Colonel.

He found himself watching her yet again, like a hawkmoth drawn to a flame. Her glistening dark brown hair was tied back from her face, accenting her high cheekbones and jamocha skin. Her dark lashes hid her eyes as she intently studied her datapad and make occasional comments to Apollo. The lucky son-of-a-daggit was sitting right next to her.

Starbuck sighed as he again switched over to the electronic topographical map on the GCS that outlined the Mazurian Jungle. It was obvious they would be covering hectares in their little scavenger hunt. He flexed his feet, marveling that the patch job Apollo had done on his heels seemed to be holding. He could hardly wait to get off the shuttle and start moving around again. His shoulders and neck were still sore and stiff, and the additional abuse from the Sergeant, not to mention the numerous death threats, hadn't helped loosen them up.

Speaking of death threats, just how realistic was it that a guy should receive a death threat for simply dating a girl? Somehow, on the scale of reasonable reactions to a given situation, that seemed just a bit over the top. On the other hand, not having the experience of having a daughter . . . or even a sister for that matter, maybe he just wasn't familiar enough with matters of paternal concern.

_Remember, you were warned._ Hades, every cadet in the Academy was warned about the Colonel's daughter. _You were the idiot who decided not to take it that seriously. Yeah, what is he gonna do, Bucko? Shoot you?_

His eyes flickered over to where Diallo was standing on the flight deck. The man stood erect as he watched over the shoulders of the poor cadets who had landed flight duty. Well, at least that meant that Diallo wasn't watching _him_.

However, Brand was. The sergeant had been watching him constantly since they left. What did Brand think he was going to do inside the shuttle? Jump Imara in front of the rest of them? He looked over towards Brand to, once again, find the man's eyes upon him. He hastily dropped his gaze. Frack. Did he ever want this day to be over!

He checked his chronometer and realized by the degree of descent that they must be making a final approach. Starbuck felt like an old-fashioned chronometer that had been wound too tightly. If he didn't get off of that ship soon, his pieces were going to start bursting out all over the place. He glanced back at Imara at that thought, with a smile on his lips.

To his surprise, her brown eyes were staring back at him. He held his breath as he held her gaze. Lords, she was beautiful. Her eyes looked strangely moist as she considered him. She wet her lower lip with the tip of her tongue and brushed back a stray strand of hair that had escaped its tether. Then, as if he had imagined the whole thing, she abruptly looked away.

He let out his breath as he heard the flight crew making their final approach. He could feel Brand's eyes on him again. Oh, to be off this bird and breathing fresh air . . . well, at least until they made it to their landram. He looked over to where Dorado was securing his gear. At least he had some experience with him on this adventure. Tani was their other team member. She was . . . young.

Tani was so young, she hadn't grown breasts yet. Starbuck's eyes fell on the petite, fresh-faced blonde with huge, blue eyes who had landed the unfortunate assignment of navigator. Maybe it was those eyes that made her seem so childlike. Like a baby animal's, they seemed out of proportion with the rest of her. She certainly seemed capable, but between those eyes and that soft voice, he had a difficult time taking her seriously. He sniffed as he reminded himself that he had known her for over a yahren and he still felt that way, despite her proving herself repeatedly. Oh, and she had noticed too. Apparently, he was a chauvinist. At least that's what Tani claimed. But then, she tended to take things a little too seriously.

The shuttle set down and within centons the cadets were disembarking. Starbuck tried to spot Imara, but she was already outside. He looked around the shuttle curious as to who was staying behind with Colonel Diallo to continue on towards their 0800 rendezvous.

He didn't recognize the men, but while cadets were moving about trying to grab gear, he edged closer to the flight deck hoping to make note of the ID badges on the two enlisted men's chests. One of them looked a lot like the man who had joined Brand on the track the night before, while he was running his 5K.

Stealth was all about trying to look inconspicuous. After all, one couldn't help but be seen as he was maneuvering around a shuttle full of cadets. He needed to have an acceptable reason to appear that he needed to be several metrons away from where he was supposed to be, as he edged closer to discovering the men's identities. . . just in case it became relevant later.

Sergeants Murata and Silus. Both men were talking to Colonel Diallo as Starbuck wandered passed them heading towards the navigator. One of them caught sight of him and opened his mouth to speak as Starbuck reached Tani.

"C'mon Tani. Dorado is getting our gear. Let's get moving, kid." His gaze flickered over Sergeant Silus again, but the man's attention had returned to Diallo.

"Starbuck, I swear, if you call me _kid _one more time, I'll drop-kick you in the middle of the jungle and leave you there to rot. I'm probably older than you are." Tani replied with a growl and she held herself up to her full height, a good twenty centimetrons shorter than Starbuck.

"Easy, Tigron." Starbuck returned lightly. Everyone seemed to have an agenda to leave him to rot in the jungle. _Not a good start, Bucko. _"That's no way to talk to your senior team members." His eyes twinkled as he watched her suck in her breath indignantly. "We have to show respect for one another if we're going to work together." He drawled in a voice reminiscent of Zoltan's.

"Why don't you start now then?" Tani asked him seriously.

Starbuck shook his head and ran his fingers back through his hair. "Tani, you really need to learn to loosen up."

"And you need to learn to take things more seriously. Like the way you treat women." She retorted.

He sighed. "I think my disciplinary duties just started." He looked over to where Apollo was watching them with a quirky grin on his face. It was just his luck that Apollo would decide that this would be the time that he would have to work out his differences with Tani. What was so wrong with not getting along with someone? Hades, it wasn't natural for everybody to see eye to eye on everything. Especially with their height difference!

"_Your_ disciplinary duties? What the frack did _I_ do wrong?" Tani asked. Oh, she knew very well why Apollo had put them together. She had a problem with Starbuck. Somehow, every bit of professionalism she usually displayed went out the hatch when he started teasing her.

"Do you want that list chronologically or alphabetically?" Starbuck returned with a wry grin.

"Very funny. C'mon, let's get this over with. Who's in command of the team? You or Dorado?" Tani asked as she preceded him from the shuttle.

"Dorado." He replied.

"Good."

"It's a good thing I have a thick hide. You could drive a lesser man to tears." He teased her.

"I've never seen a lesser man, so I wouldn't know." Tani returned quickly.

"Ouch. Getting yourself all pumped up for the drop-kick?" Starbuck asked.

"It may take a few more gibes." She returned.

Dorado suddenly loomed between them. "Hey, now, remember we're supposed to be a team here. You two are going to be more hindrance than help if you keep going on like this." He shoved a pack towards each of them.

"Sorry, Dorado. You're right." Tani said, shouldering her back as she looked over at Starbuck. "Truce?"

"Sure." Starbuck shrugged. "But if your mother socks my mother right in the nose again, it's over. No matter the colour of the blood."

"Clown." She replied with a slight smile.

"Are you done?" Dorado asked them both. He looked over at Apollo and glowered. He knew this was coming eventually. One of the goals he had set at the beginning of the yahren was to be able to rise above his usual role as friend and peer, and to function capably in command. He knew one of his several challenges would be retaining command. Starbuck had a tendency to try and do things his own way, no matter who was in charge. "Okay. I've signed out our weapons. Here are your blasters." He handed them over.

Starbuck's hand shook slightly as he accepted his weapon. He turned it over in his hand slowly. It was the same blaster they had been using since he had started at the Academy.

His skin suddenly prickled at the back of his neck. He turned to once again find Brand's intent gaze upon him. With a calmness he didn't feel, he casually holstered his weapon and turned towards the landram.

----------------------------

"Do you think this is it?" Tani asked excitedly as she held her Global Coordinator System unit in one hand and scanned the area. They had finally reached the coordinates they had fed into the system.

"Could be Tani." Dorado replied, checking his own GCS. "What do you think Starbuck?"

They had been hiking for centars through the wilderness and had already found two caches, only to discover that they merely contained further waypoints to download before setting off again for their next destination.

"I think I'd rather be flying a viper." Starbuck muttered from behind them. He wiped the sweat from his brow and pulled his canteen from his pack taking a deep drink of the beverage that not only replenished fluids, but also vital electrolytes. "Do you think Apollo and Imara are out in this heat, or do flight leaders get some environmentally controlled vehicle to sit in and watch our progress?"

"You whine like a child, Starbuck." Tani accused him, brushing her damp tresses away from her face. .

"Takes one to know one." He replied testily.

"Lords, you two. I'm going to send you to separate ends of the fracking jungle if you keep this up." Dorado snapped. He had had just about enough of the terrible twosome. "We'll get done a lot quicker if you stop your bellyaching."

"We will?" Starbuck asked. "I'll have you know, Tani and I didn't insult each other once in the last thirty centons, and that didn't seem to speed our progress up at all."

"Oh, for Sagan's Sake, Starbuck . . . !" Dorado started.

"Wait a micron! I just lost the signal!" Tani interrupted them.

Dorado studied his own GCS unit from beside her. "So did I."

Starbuck sniffed. "I still have it. Back up a bit."

"Why?" Tani asked.

"Humour me, Tani. Just this once." Starbuck asked.

Tani walked back to him holding her GCS unit. "It's back." She looked at Starbuck in wonder. "How did you know?"

"Just a hunch. It's been relatively easy until now. So, what do you think? Is something blocking the signal?" He asked Dorado.

"Must be. Let's fan out from your position, Starbuck. Your go west, I'll go east." Dorado told him as he moved in the other direction.

"What about me?" Tani asked eagerly.

"You could get our lunch ready." Starbuck threw over his shoulder as he moved to the right. "I'm starving."

"It will be a cold day in Hades, Starbuck . . . " She hissed.

"Get your scanner out, Tani. If there is something here blocking the signal, I'd wager it will show up." Dorado told her.

"Good idea." Tani added, digging into her pack with enthusiasm.

"I lose the signal here." Starbuck added from where he stood. "Not exactly a precise science. We could be looking for eons." He looked around at the endless trees.

"I lose it here." Dorado added from twenty metrons in the opposite direction. "You go north, I'll go south. We'll see if we can reduce the area we have to search."

"Ten to one, the cache is somewhere within the blocked area." Starbuck added.

"Not necessarily." Tani inserted. "Here's the scanner. I'm on it." She started scanning the area looking for metals. "There's a lot of interference."

"Mazuria is lousy with precious metals. Mining is one of their most lucrative industries." Dorado told her.

"Refine the search." Starbuck instructed as he walked over and through the vegetation watching his GCS unit readouts.

"How?" Tani asked.

"You need to reprogram the search engine to eliminate the naturally occurring metals that we're likely walking over." Starbuck told her.

"Really." Tani looked at him skeptically. "Dorado?"

"Great idea, Starbuck." Dorado nodded. "Go ahead."

Starbuck grinned at them. "You know, we might even be able to refine the search enough to have it detect the actual tokens." He held his hand out for the scanner, and Tani walked over to join him.

"You mean, bypass finding the blocking system all together and just look for the tokens?" Tani asked wide-eyed, as she handed it over.

"It's a thought. I don't know if it will work, but Apollo told us that the tokens are in a tylinium container, so if we program the scanner to narrow its search to tylinium, then we might be able to speed this along." He theorized as he turned the unit over and started working the panel free. "After all, it's an alloy."

"You're shattering my image of you, Starbuck." Tani told him. "I thought this exercise was about learning how to use the GCS unit efficiently?"

"Or finding a better and quicker way to use the equipment they provided us with." Dorado added. "Nice, Bucko."

Fifteen centons later, the three cadets were standing in front of a tree that must have been eight hundred yahrens old, if the girth of the enormous trunk was any indication.

"Up there?" Tani asked in a small voice as she craned her neck towards the limb Starbuck had identified.

"Yep." Starbuck confirmed once again as he checked the scanner. He sighed and swung his pack onto the ground. "We have harnesses and ropes, might as well use them."

"And we really only need one person to go up." Dorado added.

"Someone small and light would be good." Starbuck suggested looking meaningfully at Tani from where he squatted on the ground.

"You want _me_ to go up there?" She asked incredulously, looking back and forth between them.

Dorado looked at the young woman with the huge eyes. "Well, it would be easier with someone lighter."

Starbuck pointed to the limb above their target. "If we could get the rope over that branch, we could easily create a pulley system and get her up."

"Wait just a centon, Starbuck. I don't think I can do this." Tani exclaimed. "Dorado . . . " she gazed at him hopefully.

"What's the problem, Tani?" Dorado asked calmly.

"And don't try the 'I'm afraid of heights' line. We _are_ all viper pilots." Starbuck pointed out as he held the harness up to her, sizing her up.

"It's different with a ship around you." She explained, backing away from the harness, hands held in front of her protectively.

"You mean you really are afraid of heights?" Dorado asked stunned.

"Well . . . " she licked her lips nervously and then started chewing on a couple fingernails. "I prefer the term acrophobic. And it's really only when I'm . . . looking down and can see nothing but . . . the ground below me . . . I get this . . . " She pushed her hair away from her face and sucked in her breath, screwing her face up distastefully. "This empty feeling . . . like I'm going to . . . fall into a void . . . " She blinked her eyes furiously and covered her face. "I'm sorry." She mewled.

"Uh . . . Starbuck." Dorado turned from the girl to where Starbuck was watching her skeptically.

"I think she's faking it." Starbuck told him.

"You're a real bastard sometimes, you know that?" Dorado told him, point blank.

Starbuck shook his head as he looked back and forth between the shaking girl and the cadet in charge. Too damned bad that Dorado liked seconds with every meal so much. Well, no one could accuse the man of being overweight, he was built like a landram. However, Starbuck didn't think he could hoist a landram up the tree.

"I guess the bastard's climbing the fracking tree." Starbuck returned as he started pulling on the harness and adjusting it to his own frame.

"Always rising to the occasion." Dorado quipped sardonically.

"Whether he wants to or not." Starbuck complained as he secured the equipment. "Are you going to shoot the rope over the branch, or do I have to do that too?"

"This was your idea, if you recall." Dorado reminded him as he loaded the mechanism that would fire the rope over the branch.

"Let's just say, it's been altered inexorably." He lamented as he looked back at Tani who was composing herself. He heard a 'thwunk' and his eyes followed the path of the rope sailing on target over the branch. "Nice shot, Dorado."

Dorado stepped towards him and started securing the rope to the harness. "Okay, nothing fancy up there. I don't want to see you swinging from vines and especially avoid those _Lord of the Simians_ yells. I hate it when the animals start to stampede."

"You watch too many holovids, Pal." Starbuck replied with a grin.

"Ready?" Dorado asked.

"No, but let's get it over with."

Dorado nodded and motioned for Tani to join him. Together they pulled on the rope and quickly had Starbuck moving skyward. Starbuck looked down at Tani. She looked like she had regained her composure. In fact, if the exaggerated wink she was directing at him was any indication, he'd been had. He shook his finger at her and she grinned at him in response. Yep, she was faking all right. He grinned as the branches and foliage began to occlude his view of his teammates. Maybe Tani had potential after all.

Actually, hanging in the trees really wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Sure, he'd rather have a viper beneath him, but the sounds, the smells and the amazing sights that were the Mazurian Jungle held him spellbound as he moved towards the branch metron by metron. He looked down to see the plumage of an avian nearby. The colours were breathtaking. He held his breath as the avian took flight, catching a thermal air current and soaring up into the canopy of the jungle. A nearby call of another avian roused him from his reverie.

"Slow down a bit! Almost there!" He called down to them and he pushed aside the foliage as he approached the branch which the scanner had identified as holding a tylinium container.

His ascent slowed marginally and he grabbed a hold of smaller branches, slowly guiding himself in towards his target. "Hold it!"

There it was. Nestled in a knot of the branch and covered by some moss was a tylinium tube. He grabbed it and shook it, hearing metal on metal. He grinned as he popped the top of the tube and peered inside. "Got them!" he cried out below as he saw three tokens at the bottom of the container.

He heard the muted sound of Dorado and Tani celebrating below, but couldn't see them for all the foliage that surrounded him. He secured the lid and called out again, "Bring me down!"

Within microns, he was being lowered slowly towards the ground. Suddenly, his descent stopped. He looked below, but still couldn't see anything. They probably were adjusting their grips or something like that. Maybe little Tani was running out of energy. She must have used too much of it up conning him.

He jerked suddenly in the air and dropped a couple metrons abruptly. Then, just as quickly stopped, and was swaying in the trees. "Hey! What the frack are you two doing?"

Silence was his reply. No Dorado. No Tani. Just the sounds of the jungle as he dangled at least a couple metrons from the nearest branch. "Dorado!" he yelled.

His descent began again. He slipped the tylinium tube into his jacket pocket and pulled his blaster. He had a bad feeling about this. Any centon now, he should clear the foliage and be able to see what was below him.

Out of the thick greenery he emerged to see a shock of purple looking up towards him, triumph in his eyes. Ortega! Dorado and Tani were standing off to the side with Kardon, and the rope was in the hands of Ortega and Orcas. As he was lowered down, Starbuck could clearly see Dorado had his arm twisted behind his back and was being held immobile by the much larger man.

"Well, well, well, look what's on the end of my line!" Ortega yelled up at him.

"Looks kind of small, maybe we should throw him back!" Orcus joined in.

Starbuck closed his eyes briefly in utter dismay. Of all of the gallmonging, snitradeous, festering frackers to show up now, it would have to be Ortega!

"How about you just toss the tokens on down here?" Ortega yelled up to him. "Good job finding them, Starbuck. We thought if we just waited you out, you'd track them down eventually."

Starbuck snorted, having visions of being suspended in the trees for the duration of the day until his flight leader tracked him down. "Don't think so. How about I come down there and give them to you personally?" He re-holstered his weapon, knowing the threat was empty. It would be better to have his hands free when he hit the ground. All the better to punch Ortega in the mouth.

Ortega said something quietly to Orcus and they began lowering him quicker. Hand over hand they manipulated the rope until the ground seemed to be rising up towards him at an alarming rate. He was about three metrons from the surface when both men let go of the rope, and the ground rushed up to meet him.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Somehow Starbuck managed to hit the ground flat on his back. He lay there for several moments, willing his lungs to start working again, as he vaguely felt someone patting him down and simultaneously heard angry voices in the background. Above him, the rope he had been suspended from, dangled from the tree branch as a reminder to his stunned body of just how he had ended up having the breath knocked out of him.

For an instant, it was just Starbuck, alone and struggling to breathe, and then the worried face of Dorado was leaning over him, blood trickling from his nose.

"Starbuck," he grabbed the still cadet by the shoulders, "are you all right?" The cadet hadn't moved a centimetron since Ortega and Orcus had released the rope and then grabbed his feet, effectively flipping him onto his back for a hard landing.

Suddenly, the spasms that had frozen his diaphragm ceased, and Starbuck drew in a small, shaky breath. He puffed a quick breath out and sucked in another greedily, filling his lungs to capacity this time.

"That's it. Just breathe." Dorado told him as he let out his own breath.

Tani started running the biomonitor over Starbuck while Dorado kept a hand on his shoulder. "I think he's okay. Nothing broken anyhow." She remarked, astounded.

Starbuck closed his eyes and took a few more breaths as he listened to them.

"Good thing he has a hard head." Dorado told her.

"I can't believe they did that." Tani whispered. "Just for a few tokens?"

"It's more than the tokens. Ortega was getting revenge." Dorado squeezed his friend's shoulder. "Hey, you still with us?"

Starbuck opened his eyes and nodded faintly. There was a dull throb at the back of his head. That was strange; he didn't remember hitting it. "What happened?"

"They jumped us." Dorado gritted his teeth as he wiped the trickle of blood from his face. "I thought they were just going to let you drop from the top, Starbuck, but then they grabbed the rope again. Sorry, Bucko. I let you down."

Starbuck shook his head slowly. "No." He replied with a faint grin. "They did. Pretty frackin' hard too." He started to sit up slowly.

"How can you joke at a time like this?" Tani asked him, putting an arm around him and supporting him as he leaned forward.

"Head injury." Dorado replied for him. "How do you feel?"

"I'm okay." Starbuck shrugged their hands off of him. "Just had the wind knocked out of me." He patted his pocket and reached inside. Empty. "Are you two okay?"

"Yeah. I'm afraid we were outnumbered by those bruisers." Dorado griped.

"Well, we weren't exactly expecting them to jump us like that either." Tani remarked in disgust. Hades, when the three Stamphalians had appeared, they had approached them offering their congratulations. Before she and Dorado knew what was happening, he was being wrestled to the ground and she was pushed away as though she was a mere child, while they reluctantly stepped back to grab the rope which would stop Starbuck's fall.

"I guess it's a lesson in expecting the unexpected." Starbuck commented as he gingerly felt the back of his head.

"Should we check his pupils?" Tani asked Dorado.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Dorado asked him, sticking up three digits in front of his face.

Starbuck brushed the hand aside. "I'm fine. Let's go after the frackers. We're wasting time."

"Go after them?" Tani asked. "Are you crazy? They just kicked our astrums."

"They had the advantage. Now we do." Starbuck told her. "Dorado?"

"First prove that you can stand up. Then I'll think about it." Dorado replied sensibly, though he was praying that Starbuck would be up to hunting the daggits to the furthest corners of Mazuria.

"Oh, for Sagan's sake." Starbuck muttered as he climbed to his feet easily. "See, I'm perfect." He held his hands out dramatically, as if that somehow illustrated his point. Other than the faint throbbing in his skull, and his neck and back aching dully, he felt fine. Well, at least as fine as he did before the fall.

Dorado nodded, satisfied. "Okay. Let's go get them."

----------

As they climbed higher in altitude, the clouds moved in. A fine mist surrounded

them, filling the air with oppressive moisture that was reminiscent of a steam room at a recreational center. Starbuck paused to sit down and take a sip of his beverage as his teammates studied the topographical map on a GCS unit. He closed his eyes briefly and massaged the back of his neck, where the dull ache was building into a continuous throb.

"We're getting close to the restricted zone." Dorado told them.

"Yes, I wonder why. I would have thought that they would head back to the Stamphalian rendezvous after they stole our tokens." Tani commented, studying the map.

"Maybe they weren't looking for our tokens." Starbuck muttered.

"You think the same thing that blocked our cache also blocked theirs?" Dorado asked, as he turned around to consider the cadet.

"Dunno. Maybe." Starbuck said briefly. It hurt to think.

"So, you think there's another cache out here?" Tani asked, her eyes shining with excitement at the thought of not only getting back their tokens, but getting the Stamphalian's as well.

"Could explain why they're so close to the zone. They simply can't find it." Starbuck shrugged. "How's it looking for a place to ambush them?"

"Ambush them?" Tani asked. "What are we going to do?"

"We should try to get ahead of them, and it's looking damn likely on the other side of the mountain. These paths are probably used by the locals and the Stamphalians are following them like established roads, if the tracks they're leaving are any indication." Dorado pointed to the boot marks in the damp dirt.

"How do we get ahead?" Tani asked.

"We go over the mountain instead of around it." Dorado pointed out the course on the map, increasing the definition and showing her how to find the potential routes around the mountainside. He pointed up the hillside. "It looks fairly gentle as far as the slope goes. If we haul astrum, I think we could beat them to this ravine."

"Are we still safely out of the restricted zone?" Starbuck asked.

"Yeah, but just." Dorado replied. "Do you think we're getting too close?"

"No, I think the locals would leave themselves a decent buffer zone. We should be okay." Starbuck returned.

"How are you feeling, by the way?" Dorado asked, wondering if his friend looked a bit paler than normal.

"Hot." Starbuck replied, wiping the sweat from his brow once again. "C'mon, we better get moving if we're going to get there ahead of them and plan any kind of surprise attack."

"Attack?" Tani asked nervously.

"I see a series of full-scale surprise attacks, each one more startling and surprising than the one before it." Starbuck smiled at her.

"Really?" Tani asked cynically.

"Tactics." Starbuck nodded, as he pulled his pack on and headed up the mountain behind Dorado without elucidating.

"I can hardly wait." Tani returned as she fell into step behind them.

The climb was arduous as they paced themselves relentlessly up the mountainside. The mist settled heavily on the terrain, making the trip all the more difficult. The scenery, which should have been spectacular, was instead all but eliminated, as they trudged onward. All three were drenched in sweat and humidity as they reached the summit where they quickly stopped for a drink.

"I don't get this wet in the turbo wash." Dorado commented dryly as he pulled his jacket off and stuffed it into his pack.

"You'd think the survival gear would be better suited to the environment." Tani remarked grumpily as she sat down heavily, pulling at her sodden tunic.

"It's supposed to build character." Starbuck remarked, sitting beside her. He ran his fingers back through his soaking wet hair. His head felt as though it was going to split wide open. Well, he hoped it would be soon: it should relieve the pressure. He glanced at his chronometer and smiled slightly, then elbowed Tani in the arm. "Nice going, kid. We made good time."

"Thanks. And stop calling me _kid_." She smiled at him. Lords, she was exhausted. She must have had to take two steps for each of theirs as she followed them up the steep incline. Well, at least Starbuck had eased off his wisecracks.

"Let's move it out." Dorado told them again heading down the hill. "Be careful, it's a bit slippery."

"Right." Tani grumbled as she followed behind, treading carefully on the slick terrain.

Starbuck stowed his canteen and stood up. The pressure in his head increased ten-fold while his vision blurred and vertigo enveloped him. For a micron, he thought he was either going to vomit or pass out. Instead, he promptly sat back down. _Frack._

"Hey, are you coming?" Tani called back to him, suddenly aware he wasn't behind her. She stopped, uncertain as she looked at him.

Starbuck took a deep breath as he cradled his head in his hands, becoming aware of her eyes on him. He ran both hands back through his hair, trying to appear nonchalant, and looked over at her. "I thought maybe you needed a head start."

"Are you intimating that I'm slowing you down?" Tani asked with a frown.

Starbuck met her gaze. He didn't see any of the playfulness that was usually there between them. Somehow, he knew that this was not the time to push it. "No. I meant it, you're doing great."

She studied him. He looked like the usual Starbuck, but something was amiss. He was too . . . quiet. And nice. "Are you okay?"

His gaze flickered down the hill towards Dorado, who had by now turned and was pausing, undecided on whether to continue without them. Starbuck waved the cadet ahead. "I got a head-rush. I'm okay now." He stood up slowly, hoping he was right. _Lords, you'd better not be injured, Bucko. Now is not the time!_

Tani nodded, satisfied. "So are you going to fill me in on the full-scale surprise attacks? Just how _do_ you make each one more surprising than the one before?" She was almost relieved to hear him chuckle as they moved down the mountainside together.

Surprisingly, to the tenderfoot of the threesome, the descent was almost as difficult as the climb. The path was slippery and wet, and it took just as many muscles to slow and control her downward path as it had the upward. Finally, she came wearily to a halt beside Dorado as he held up a hand.

"Shh! I hear something." He said quietly as he started laterally across the hillside in the direction of the voices.

Tani looked back at Starbuck, who had been lagging slightly behind as rear guard. She signaled him to stay low and silent and then continued on. He abruptly picked up his pace and was right on their heels within a centon.

Not far ahead, they could see the Stamphalians on the path below surrounded by several locals. The path ran along a deep ravine which appeared steep and treacherous. The locals appeared aggressive and angry as they swarmed the cadets.

"You're not supposed to be here. It's off limits to outlanders." A swarthy complexioned man with jet-black hair which hung loosely at his shoulders growled at Ortega, as he pushed him roughly in the other direction from which they had come.

"We're NOT in the restricted zone." Ortega argued. "Just look at the map."

"This is my land. Do not presume to tell me you know it better than I." The man hissed at the cadet. He was dressed in fatigues which blended in with the natural colours of the landscape.

"We're not trespassing. We have permission from your government to be here." Orcus informed them.

"And which government do you refer to?" the guerilla hissed.

"The Mazurian government." Kardon replied.

"This is Chobatar territory. The Mazurians have no jurisdiction here."

Dorado stopped not from the altercation. Starbuck slipped in beside him looking below.

"Ortega's right." Dorado whispered. "We're not in the restricted zone."

"Doesn't much matter if the locals think we are." Starbuck replied.

"What do you think?" Dorado asked.

"I guess it depends what the Chobatars are going to do to them." Starbuck answered reluctantly after considering the situation. "They're armed."

"So are the Stamphalians." Dorado returned.

Starbuck nodded at the obvious. The last thing they needed to see was a stand off . . . or a shoot out. If it appeared as if it would come to that, they would definitely have to step in. Then again, maybe the Chobatars would just turn the Stamphalians around and send them back the way they came. It was too soon to tell. "You're in command."

"Thanks for your support." Dorado muttered sourly. Lords, he hated being in charge. Just his luck that Starbuck chose today, of all days, to not try to usurp his authority.

"No problem."

Dorado sighed. "I guess we wait."

"Dor-a-do . . . " Tani's tremulous voice came from behind them.

They turned to see her looking uphill. Sprawled across the mountainside and heading their way were another group of Chobatars, weapons drawn and aimed at them.

----------

Starbuck raised his hands and sucked in his breath as he started counting the Chobatar rebels headed towards them. Five of them. Talk about bad odds. They looked angry too. His gaze flickered back to the scene below as one of the guerillas approaching him alerted his friends to the fact that they were about to be ambushed.

Now, every Chobatar in the area was glaring at the three Phoenix cadets with suspicion and animosity.

"Don't move or we will shoot. Not only have you intruded on Chobatar territory, but you have also displayed an antagonistic intent. That alone is enough to have you all in front of a firing squad." The Chobatar stated matter-of-factly as he walked up to Starbuck and Dorado, removing their weapons as his cohorts guarded them closely. Another rebel disarmed Tani, who stood just behind them.

"Hey, wait just a centon, pal. You're way off the mark here. We were actually trying to catch up to our fellow cadets . . . " Starbuck began.

The Chobatar pushed him roughly backwards and pointed his weapon at the cadet. "You warriors think we are naïve and backward! You are mistaken! We are educated men involved in a national crusade to regain what is rightfully ours! Chobataria!"

"CHOBATARIA!" The others cried out, weapons held high in the air.

"Do not think you can hornswoggle us!" The Chobatar cried in rage.

Starbuck regained his footing, glancing quickly at Dorado, who looked as intimidated as Starbuck felt. He focused on the Chobatar again and tried to ignore the weapon, which seemed Colonial in origin, not to mention shiny and new. Suspiciously so. "Easy. Look, we aren't trying to . . . hornswoggle you. We're here on a military training exercise to locate tokens." He studied the rebel's features noting how the dark eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as he listened. "They . . . " Starbuck pointed to the Stamphalians, "have our tokens."

"You would have me believe you came to ambush your fellow warriors?" His head lifted slightly, even as his lip curled into a sneer of disbelief.

"Cadets." Starbuck clarified as he nodded. "It's a competition. The squadron with the most tokens wins a secton-end pass." The man appeared to consider his words. "There was no aggression intended towards your people."

"If what you say is true, then one of these cadets will have these . . . tokens." The rebel stated watching Starbuck's reaction.

Starbuck nodded. "In a small tylinium container in his pocket. Three tokens. Silver in colour."

The rebel stood back and waved his weapon, motioning the cadets to proceed towards the Stamphalians. "Let us go see. Perhaps a firing squad will not be necessary after all."

Starbuck winced as he heard groans of disappointment behind him. He hoped they were simply trying to frighten the cadets. He started picking his way down the hillside behind Dorado with Tani not far behind.

"Would the Colonial Academy grant us a secton-end pass if we turn in these tokens ourselves?" One of the other rebels mused aloud and was rewarded with the laughter of his comrades.

"Nice going, Bucko." Dorado whispered back to him.

Starbuck nodded back at him, hopeful they would be back on track soon. They quickly made their way down to the path, only metrons in distance and a steep drop from the others when Tani suddenly shrieked behind them.

Starbuck and Dorado turned as one, hands dropping down slightly and curling into fists as their bodies tensed for battle. They whirled to see a rebel with his hand firmly glued to Tani's astrum.

Tani was wide-eyed and furious as she turned on the Chobatar who was grinning lecherously and slapped him soundly across the face. "DON'T touch me!" She screamed shrilly. When he stared back at her with an even bigger grin, she smiled in return and promptly kneed him in the groin.

"Now!" Ortega's voice shouted simultaneously.

Chaos erupted. Kardon dropped the closest Chobatar with a blow to the jaw and then went down beneath two more as he was jumped from behind. As Ortega struggled against another, Orcus leapt to his rescue, knocking the man on the head with the butt of his blaster. The Chobatar dropped to the ground unconscious. The two cadets jumped into the fray again.

"Frack!" Starbuck muttered as he stood torn between helping the Stamphalians and preserving the temporary truce he had elicited from the guerillas. Two Chobatars were simultaneously reaching for a likewise ambivalent Dorado. Starbuck glanced back towards the others and caught sight of a rebel taking careful aim at Orcus with a blaster.

His body reacted before his mind could even begin to make a decision; he hurled himself off the sudden drop towards the Chobatar, crashing on top of the man even as the weapon discharged.

From the corner of his eye, Starbuck could see Orcus drop limply to the ground. He slammed the Chobatar's hand onto a rock, the weapon flying free. Adrenaline surged through his veins as horror and anger engulfed him. With every modicum of strength he had left, he punched the rebel in the jaw, and then scrambled forward, grabbing the blaster as the man lay senseless beneath him.

He could hear the yells of the other cadets and a sudden howl of terror from Ortega. Starbuck snapped his head in the direction of the cry just in time to see Ortega tumble backwards over the edge of the ridge.

The blast of another laser interrupted the melee. Every eye was drawn upwards to where a Chobatar stood, his powerful left arm wrapped around Tani's throat and his weapon swinging downwards towards her forehead. "Don't move or I _will_ kill her."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Tani stood in the iron grip of a Chobatar, blaster held to her temple; Orcus lay in a crumpled heap on the ground; and Ortega had disappeared over the edge of the ravine. All this penetrated Starbuck's thoughts as he stared numbly at the Chobatar's blaster he held in his hand.

It was a dual-setting, Colonial blaster with a stun setting.

Relief flooded him as he noted the weapon was set on stun. His eyes flickered to Orcus who was merely unconscious and not dead, as he had first assumed. Kardon leaned over the cadet checking his pulse and nodded briefly as he met Starbuck's gaze, relief evident on his face.

"I said, don't move!" The Chobatar yelled again, as he jammed his weapon under Tani's chin, angling it upwards.

"Easy there." Dorado told him from where he was held, flanked by rebels. The sweat ran off his forehead and into his eyes, and he blinked as he assessed the situation. Tani was doing her best to hold it together, though her eyes looked as though they would pop out of her head. Starbuck lay, half sitting on the ground near the edge of the ravine, looking dazed. Kardon was leaning over Orcus, nodding in satisfaction, as his fingers continued to monitor for life signs.

"I've had enough of your lies. Shut your mouth!" The Chobatar leader snapped, his body taut with tension, also surveying the scene before him.

Four of his men and two of the Colonials were down. He sneered at Ajayi who was writhing on the ground, hands held protectively over his groin, gasping for breath. Taken out by a mere woman who had not even required the weapon she usually carried at her side. Her most effective weapons were her gender and his stupidity.

Bandele was unconscious, his attacker not far from his inert position. The dark blond cadet was slowly re-holstering his weapon, under the watchful gaze of Halian. The Chobatar leader recognized him as the one who had convinced them that the Colonials meant no harm. Lies.

Sedurni and Kayin were also unconscious and lay near the stunned cadet. His other men had formed a small circle around the Colonials and Natana was peering over the ravine checking on the last intruder. That cadet was too close to the coca fields. He needed to be removed . . . or eliminated. "Natana?" he asked.

"He's alive. He looks injured though. His leg, I believe." Natana replied. "I could shoot him from here and end it all. They have trespassed on Chobatar land, Virote. They should pay the price."

"Wait just a micron . . . " Dorado started.

"Silence!" Virote hollered at him as he started muscling Tani down the hill. "We will decide your fate. We now know you are incapable of speaking the truth." He sneered at Starbuck who gazed back steadily. "Dima. Your thoughts." He looked to his brother.

"If we kill them, their forces will descend upon us seeking revenge." Dima replied as he helped push Dorado towards the others.

"We must avenge ourselves. Gukamatz demands it!" Natana argued.

"Gukamatz is not a vengeful God, Natana. You assume too much if you try to speak for him." Dima countered calmly.

"It is our way!" Natana insisted.

"No. It is your way." Dima replied.

"It is the way of war! There are casualties in battle." Natana countered.

"But not here. Not now. The only man truly injured lies at the bottom of the ravine. Unless you count Ajayi." Dima smiled ruefully at the Chobatar who had finally struggled to his feet, hands still protecting his nether regions. "Then there is our new agreement. If we want things to continue as they are, we had better return these striplings to their commanders. Our fight against the Mazurians is far more important than this squabble."

"You speak sagely, brother." Virote nodded. He again assessed the Colonials. "You." He indicated Starbuck. "Get up. If your hand so much as brushes your weapon, I will shoot the woman."

Starbuck climbed slowly to his feet with his hands raised. He winced slightly as his head throbbed, but an aching head meant he was still alive. If the Chobatar leader listened to his brother, he should stay that way. He drew a deep breath to steady himself, once again feeling slightly light-headed.

"Go see to your friend with the unusual hair." Virote ordered him. "Bring him up here. Now." He watched as the cadet nodded slightly.

Starbuck lowered himself over the edge, gripping rocks and tree roots as he descended, thankful for the handholds. He blinked repeatedly, trying to clear his blurring vision. There was no way in Hades Ortega would be climbing back up if he was injured. Frack, he had his doubts about whether he would make it back up, the way he was feeling now. That was the problem with adrenaline; it was fleeting, and left you feeling drained.

"He may not be able to climb, Virote." Dima pointed out as he looked down at the warrior far below, cradling his leg and writhing in pain.

"Then they can follow the ravine to leave our territory. Regardless, I want them all out of here in twenty centons. Who's in command here?"

"I am." Dorado replied quickly.

"Then pick up your fallen comrade and get out of Chobatar territory." He roughly pushed Tani towards him.

"Our weapons?" Dorado asked, catching Tani in his arms. She clung to him as a terrified child might for a couple microns before composing herself.

Virote considered him for a moment. "Very well. But if you try to use them, I will simply shoot your friends dead as they climb the ravine. Now, get off our land and don't come back. If you do, I will not concern myself with offending your superiors."

Starbuck was breathing hard as he made his way down the treacherous ravine. The descent was so steep in parts, he was cursing that he had not thought to use a rope. Lords, he was cursing about a lot of things about now.

His head was throbbing painfully with each beat of his heart and every time he turned his neck, it sent a stabbing pain through his right shoulder. He couldn't believe that he was risking his neck to save Ortega, of all people.

Starbuck glanced down at the purple noggin not far below him. Ortega was looking up at him in shock, as he realized, probably for the first time, just who his would-be rescuer was. He shook his head in dismay and closed his eyes, his face twisting into a grimace, as his hands wrapped tightly around his injured knee.

Starbuck climbed down the last few metrons and stared down at the upturned face of Ortega while he caught his breath. Blood was oozing down Ortega's right temple and his face was a mixture of scrapes and cuts. He actually looked like he had slid most of the way down the hillside on his face: so really, by all accounts, he should be fine.

Starbuck sighed as he thought about the next centar or so it would likely take for them to hike out of there. Ortega would need help. Frack, he'd practically have to carry him. Maybe he should take a page from Apollo's book and try and make the best of it. Perhaps they could put their colourful past behind them and work together. Hades, it might even be the impetus to end their three yahren old feud. Yeah, he should really try to put some effort into it. That would be the mature thing to do. The responsible thing. After all, Ortega really was hurt.

"You look even uglier than usual, Ortega." Starbuck muttered down at him, his course of action from microns ago abandoned, as Ortega sneered up at him.

"What the frack are _you_ doing here?" Ortega growled at him.

"Believe me, there was no request for volunteers on this one." Starbuck replied, pulling his pack off and kneeling down beside the cadet. "I like your hair. Very progressive. Have any avians tried to mate with you?"

"Shut the frack up, Starbuck. If you're here to help, then do it, so we can get out of here." Sweat mixed with blood and ran down Ortega's face in torrents.

"Well, the tribunal's still out on how much help I can be. How bad is the leg?" Starbuck asked, hesitant to actually touch the snitrad.

"I can't put any weight on it." Ortega told him.

"You've tried?"

"Of course, I've frackin' tried! Especially when I realized it was you who they were sending to help!"

"Well, falling off a mountainside hasn't improved your disposition any." Starbuck muttered as he pulled his med kit out of his pack.

"And dropping out of a tree didn't help yours!" Ortega rejoined.

"Look Pal, it was you who got us into this mess. The Chobatars would have let us go peacefully if you hadn't decided to attack them. Now, lie the frack down." He pulled out the biomonitor and began running it over Ortega, pushing him back somewhat forcefully.

"Do you actually believe that? Lords, you're naïve Starbuck. We would have had to fight our way out of this one way or the other." Ortega argued, resisting the pressure on his chest.

"Really? Then why are they standing up there watching us, instead of using us for target practice?" Starbuck snapped back at him, nodding towards the Chobatar leader and his brother. "They said it themselves, Ortega. Their fight isn't with us. It's with the Mazurians. You guys blew it. You put everyone at risk. They shot Orcus for Sagan's sake!"

"Is he . . . ?" Ortega asked hesitantly. He remembered Orcas collapsing, but by then he was being sucker punched by the biggest, meanest Chobatar he had ever seen. The next thing he knew he was tumbling down the ravine.

"They stunned him." Starbuck replied. His right hand ran lightly over Ortega, following the path of the biomonitor as it scanned him. "Dorado and Kardon are carrying him out of here."

"Stunned him? How?" Ortega asked in surprise, not noticing Starbuck slip something into his pocket.

"Maybe you haven't noticed, but these guys aren't exactly lacking in technological sophistication. They're carrying the new blasters. The ones we've been expecting at the Academy." Starbuck scanned Ortega's knee, hesitating as he surveyed the readout.

"What's it say?" Ortega asked.

"Your knee's fracked." Starbuck replied without hesitation. He reached into his pack.

"Well, tell me something I didn't know. What in Hades is wrong with it?" Ortega asked in frustration.

"I'm a frackin' viper pilot, not a med tech. How should I know?" Starbuck replied angrily. "There's nothing broken, but you can't stand on it. If I could read this thing properly, it would probably tell me you twisted something or tore something. Well, news flash, I can't. As usual we have every piece of electronic felgercarb known to man, and we're not any further ahead. Satisfied?" He sat back on his haunches and wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his jacket. A small smile crossed Ortega's features, and Starbuck realized he had probably just smeared dirt all over himself, but he really didn't care.

Ortega took a deep breath. "This isn't helping."

"Oh, great. Now you're going to turn into the voice of reason. Why me, Lord? Why me?" He muttered skyward, stealing another surreptitious look at the Chobatars. They didn't look too pleased with the fact that they were still there.

"Can you make a splint?"

"Yeah." Starbuck replied after a moment. He pulled more gear out of his pack, cursing yet again, as he realized that Dorado had the splints in his larger kit. "Give me your pack. Let's see what you have."

Ortega nodded handing over his gear. He watched as Starbuck tore through it in frustration, finally pulling out a thick roll of tape. A micron later, he started slicing through Ortega's pack with a large knife, removing the frame.

Starbuck pulled the blaster out of his holster, for the first time having the opportunity to get a good look at it. He adjusted the setting on the laser, and was soon cutting through the frame and setting aside four pieces, each about thirty centimetrons long. Again, he grabbed Ortega's pack and started slicing through the thick canvas, cutting a strip slightly wider than the support bars. He placed the bars across it evenly and taped them in place. He held up his makeshift splint.

"Let's try it out." Starbuck suggested as he waited for Ortega to lift his leg.

Ortega nodded and soon the splint was in place. Starbuck wrapped several more layers of tape around it for good measure.

"Where did you get the laser?" Ortega asked as Starbuck finished up.

"I took it off the Chobatar that shot Orcus." Starbuck replied meeting Ortega's eyes. He handed it to the man to take a look as he scavenged supplies from his pack and added it to his own.

"Nice job." Ortega muttered quietly, handing the laser back.

Starbuck just nodded, uncertain whether he was referring to disarming the Chobatar or to making the splint. "The moment of truth. Let's get going."

"Can you give me something for pain first?" Ortega asked, weary at bearing any weight on his leg.

Starbuck sighed as he pulled on his pack. "I can't carry you, Ortega. I need you alert. Let's try it with the splint first. If it's too bad, we can give you a painkiller later." He climbed to his feet and stretched out sore and tired muscles, before leaning down and putting an arm around Ortega. "Ready?"

Ortega nodded, and together they got him on his feet. He grunted in pain as his bad knee took some weight.

"Lean on me." Starbuck told him, adjusting his grip.

"How long can you hold up?" Ortega asked breathlessly as they started along the ravine. Chobatar eyes continued to watch them.

"Long enough to get out of this pit and comm for help. I doubt we'll be in range down here." His head was again throbbing with his exertion.

"You know, I wouldn't do this for you, Starbuck. Why in Hades are you doing it for me?" Ortega told him honestly.

Starbuck stopped and looked Ortega in the eye. "Because I'm a wonderful guy. Just ask me."

----------

Each step was agony as they climbed out of the ravine over a centar later. Starbuck lowered Ortega to the ground and collapsed beside him, his body shutting down from adding insult to injury. His skull pounded and nausea hovered ever so closely so that every time he swallowed he was sure he was going to toss his mushies.

He lay on his back looking up at the grey sky, a gentle mist caressing his face, as he caught his breath and tried to make his fingers grasp his comm unit to get the help he knew they needed.

"I really need something for pain." Ortega spat out between clenched teeth. His knee throbbed despite the splint and a couple times, as Starbuck nearly lost his balance, he had come close to blacking out from the spasms wracking his leg.

Starbuck snorted. _He_ needed something for pain. Or just a head transplant. He glanced around looking for available heads, but there didn't seem to be any extras lying around.

"Starbuck . . . " Ortega begged. The guy was acting as if _he_ was the one who was injured. Lords, why couldn't it have been Kardon who had been sent to help him out of there.

Starbuck took a deep breath and rolled over, pushing himself onto his knees. He slipped the pack off his shoulders and pulled the med kit out. His hands were shaking as he tried to work the clasp to open the kit. He clenched his fists willing the trembling to stop.

"Sagan . . . " Starbuck mumbled as he again tried to open the kit. Success. He pulled out the preloaded hypos within and tried to distinguish one label from the other. The letters blurred into each other as he studied them.

"Starbuck!" Ortega hissed again. He looked at the cadet who was rubbing his eyes blearily. He didn't look so good. "Starbuck?"

Starbuck handed Ortega the hypo. "What's it say?" he asked wearily.

"Adrenaline." Ortega replied after a moment. "Let me." He pulled the med kit from unresisting fingers and rifled through it until he found a painkiller. "Here," he handed it back, desperate for some relief.

Starbuck tried to focus on the hypo that Ortega held out to him. He knew the odds were damn poor that all five syringes before him were actually there. The middle one was likely the best choice. He reached out for it . . . with all three of his right hands.

Ortega pushed the hypo into Starbuck's wavering hand, a little reluctant to have the shaky cadet inject the drug. But, then again, he sure wasn't up to doing it himself. For the first time, he realized he wasn't the only one suffering. He took a good look at his adversary.

"You look like mong." Ortega muttered as he took in the pale, diaphoretic countenance before him.

"Feel like mong." Starbuck mumbled as he watched Ortega pull off his tunic and offer a deltoid.

"Can you do it?" Ortega asked squeamishly.

"Yeah." Starbuck grabbed a piece of Ortega's flesh and activated the hypo. It did the rest.

Ortega lay back and closed his eyes for several centons as the agony was gradually reduced to a dull ache. He grabbed Starbuck's pack and reached for his canteen, slaking his thirst. Suddenly, he heard a comm unit crackle to life.

"Flight Leader Apollo to Cadet Starbuck. Do you read? Come in, Starbuck."

Ortega looked over to see Starbuck lying on the ground next to him, eyes shut and exhaustion etched in his face. He gave his shoulder a shove. "Starbuck."

"Apollo to Starbuck. I repeat, do you read?"

Ortega shook the shoulder this time. "Starbuck! The comm."

"Frack off . . . " Starbuck muttered. Lords, he was tired. He would have to pry his eyes open if he really needed to. His head pounded a little less intensely if he didn't move it, and there was this sweet, sinking sensation just beyond the brittle sound of Ortega's voice . . . if he could only get back there.

" . . . Out of range still . . . " Apollo's voice came through.

Ortega reached over and grabbed Starbuck's comm himself, unsure of what channel Phoenix Squadron was using. "Cadet Ortega to Flight Leader Apollo. Do you read?"

"Cadet Ortega, Flight Leader Apollo here. What's your position?"

"Frack, I don't know. " Ortega muttered aloud, as he looked around blankly. To Apollo he replied, "Stand by." Starbuck had been keeping track of their position. At least he thought so. Starbuck had led them out of the ravine. Ortega supported his leg and moved himself closer to inert cadet, who had rolled away from him in the opposite direction. He reached down and gave him another shake. "Starbuck, where the frack are we?"

"Chobataria." Starbuck muttered, eyes still closed. No, that was wrong. "Mazuria."

"What's our position?" Ortega shook him again, this time lightly slapping his face. "Wake up."

"Hey," Starbuck protested, knocking the hand away. He looked up to see Ortega fading in and out above him, which only made his nausea worse. "Stop that . . . " he moaned and he shut his eyes again, refusing to vomit.

"Frack." Ortega muttered as he rolled Starbuck over and pulled his GCS unit off his belt. He checked the coordinates. "Apollo, we're at 4 degrees, 36 centons north; 74 degrees, 5 centons west."

"Dorado reported in almost a centar ago and told me what happened. He said you were injured. Are you mobile?" Apollo asked tersely. "And where's Starbuck?"

"No, we're no longer mobile. Starbuck's here, but he's kind of out of it." Ortega replied. "He just . . . collapsed. I don't know what's wrong with him."

"Could it have anything to do with being dropped out of a tree onto his head?" Apollo asked pointedly.

"He didn't land on his head." Ortega immediately denied. Or did he?

Apollo sighed into the comm. "Put your personal communicator on standby and we'll use it to pinpoint you. I think we can get a landram in to pick you up. Keep Starbuck awake. It sounds like he might have a concussion. That's an order."

"Yes, sir." Ortega replied grumpily. He should have known. Even in injuries, Starbuck had to outdo him.

----------

It had been thirty centons of Hades since Ortega had talked to Apollo. He had managed to prop them both up against a tree, hoping that the upright position would help Starbuck stay awake. It had. For about five centons. Though he could hear the landram in the distance, he reached over and once more shook Starbuck, as he watched the cadet's head loll onto his chest. "Wake up."

Starbuck lifted his head once again and glared at Ortega. "What?"

"The landram's coming . . . thank the blessed Lords." Ortega replied. Starbuck simply nodded and rested his head back against the tree trunk. "Stay awake. Apollo ordered you to."

"Oh. Well, why didn't you say so to begin with?" A faint smile touched Starbuck's lips.

Ortega shook his head. His sentence with Starbuck was about to draw to an end. What an ordeal! Anything he had done wrong in his life, he had more than atoned for in the last ninety centons. In fact, he probably had a few transgressions owed to him by now. Hades, he had been a bloody saint, trying to keep the fracking, pain-in-the-astrum cadet awake.

Ortega heard the landram come to a stop through the thick vegetation, about twenty metrons away. Within microns he could hear voices calling out for them. "Over here!" he shouted.

He could feel relief flood his body as the stern, but dependable face of Sergeant Brand appeared with a med tech, with Colonel Diallo bringing up the rear. The men jogged over to the cadets.

Ortega reflexively thrust back his shoulders and stuck out his chest as Diallo neared. Just the mere sight of the man caused backs to straighten within fifteen metrons.

"At ease, Cadet." Diallo told him humourlessly. His keen eyes ran over the young men, taking in their ragged appearance, Ortega's purple hair, and . . . Starbuck's shiny new weapon. _Frack! _He kneeled down beside the drowsy cadet, eyes on the blaster. "Cadet!" his voice was clipped as he watched Starbuck's eyes fly open and try to focus on him.

" . . . Sir . . . " Starbuck mumbled. He raised his hands to his head in hopes that he could prevent it exploding. He closed his eyes again as he felt the bile rise in his throat and his head pound relentlessly. " . . . Ohh . . . " he groaned.

"Check out Cadet Ortega's leg, son." Diallo told the med tech.

"But . . . " the med tech started to argue, knowing that a head injury was far more critical than a splinted knee.

"That's an order, Zhi." Diallo said. "This one has a concussion. That much is clear. Sergeant Brand, help me get Cadet Starbuck aboard the landram. We'll send Murata and Silus back to help with Cadet Ortega."

"Uh . . . yes, sir." The med tech replied dutifully as he watched Brand and Diallo reach down, grab the cadet by the jacket and start to pull him to his feet. "Sirs, that might not be a very good . . . "

Abruptly, Starbuck's position changed from mostly horizontal to vertical. His eyes flew open as he started to protest, but his stomach betrayed him and he immediately vomited all over Sergeant Brand's jacket.

"Frackin' piece of mong . . . !" Brand exclaimed as he shoved the cadet roughly away.

"Easy, Sergeant." Diallo said in a low, controlled voice as he steadied the weaving cadet. "I've got you, Cadet. Take it easy."

Starbuck clung to Diallo's arm as the world reeled beneath his feet. He shook his head, painfully aware that he had just disgraced himself all over the Sergeant. Meanwhile, klaxons were sounding in the back of his mind, but he couldn't for the life of him recall why he would be in danger.

"Cadet Ortega, that particular shade of purple hair is against regulations. I expect it to be corrected by tomorrow." Diallo barked as he turned for the landram.

"Yes Sir." Ortega replied, biting his lip.

Starbuck felt Diallo's strong hand pulling him along by his flight jacket, and tried to focus, as blurs of green and brown only made him feel more disoriented and nauseous. He could vaguely hear Brand cursing him colourfully and thoroughly as he was dragged along.

Suddenly, he was slammed up against a hard, rough surface and Diallo was nose to nose with him . . . which couldn't have smelled too good, considering he had just puked.

"Where the frack did you get this?" Diallo pushed the weapon into Starbuck's line of vision, unaware that it was only one more blur to the cadet.

Fireworks went off in his skull after his head struck the trunk of the tree. His answer was a groan of pain and he felt himself slipping down the tree, only to be grabbed again and shoved back against the bark.

"Answer me!" Diallo ordered him.

"What the frack are we gonna do?" Brand asked in a fear-filled voice. "He must know, Diallo. He must have been the one in the hangar. Why else would he keep one of the Chobatar's blasters?"

Fury filled the Colonel as he glared into the dazed face of Starbuck. He couldn't help but wonder if somehow Imara had been a part of it. She had sworn up and down that they were in a romantic little glen having a lover's spat that night. She had even reassured him that she had no intention of seeing the young man again. But what if that spat had been because his daughter had been in the hangar too? Or perhaps Starbuck had told her what he had seen and heard. Hades, truth be known, the Colonel had expected that all along, but he had wanted so badly to believe his daughter. He had to find out. And Brand couldn't be there when he did.

Diallo grabbed a fist full of Starbuck's hair, yanking his head back viciously. "How much do you know, cadet? Tell me." He stared into bewildered eyes.

"Nothing . . . " Starbuck muttered as pain, nausea and a penetrating awareness overwhelmed him. He grasped ineffectually at Diallo's hand.

"Why do you have this blaster then?" Diallo growled as he stared into the young man's eyes, trying to search for the truth in them.

"Rebel shot . . . Orcus. I took it . . . from him." Starbuck explained, wincing as his scalp felt like it was ripped from his skull. He omitted the fact that he knew it was a new dual-setting Colonial blaster.

"And just what did you intend to do with it?" Diallo asked him.

"Nothing, Sir . . . " Starbuck insisted.

"I don't believe him, Diallo." Brand muttered as he hovered at Diallo's shoulder.

"Brand, get Silus and Murata from the landram. Tell them to go get Med Tech Zhi and Cadet Ortega. Make sure they take their time about it. I need to discuss something with this boy."

"I'll make sure they don't interrupt, Sir." Brand nodded.

"I knew that you would." Diallo replied as he continued to stare into Starbuck's eyes coldly.

Starbuck swallowed the large lump that was in his throat. Cold fear filled him and he tried to get control of his exhausted body, knowing he might only have one more chance. He planted his feet and thought about his next move as his hands clutched feebly and incompetently at Diallo's iron grip. Realistically, he didn't have a hope in Hades.

"You've put me in a difficult position, Cadet. Do you understand that?" Diallo asked him, almost sympathetically. Then he struck.

Starbuck didn't even see it coming as the iron fist plowed into his gut. The air rushed from his lungs, and for the second time that day, he gasped, unable to breathe. His legs crumpled beneath him and Diallo let him slump onto the damp ground. Starbuck curled into a ball, one hand over his gut and the other protecting his head, as he waited for the next blow, still gasping for breath.

Diallo squatted down beside the young man who had clearly been in the wrong place at the wrong time. A shame really. He had been a good pilot. He listened to the pathetic squeaks and wheezes that relayed to him the kid hadn't started breathing properly again. He could hear Brand skirting around his position with Murata and Silus. He didn't have much time. Med tech Zhi would want to assess Starbuck soon.

Diallo grabbed Starbuck by the lapels and thrust him onto his back. He kneeled over top of him, his knee firmly wedged between the kid's legs. He nudged his knee firmly, but slowly upward. The kid sucked in his breath. Guaranteed to make a man start breathing every time. And just as effective at reversing the condition. Brand had taught him that. But then, Brand enjoyed that kind of thing.

"How much does my daughter know?" Diallo asked between gritted teeth.

Starbuck shook his head as he tried to squirm up and away from the increasing pressure. Diallo responded by grabbing him by the throat.

"How much does she know?" Diallo hollered as he tightened his grip on the cadet's windpipe, occluding his airway.

Starbuck clawed frantically at Diallo's hands, unable to break his grip. Just when he thought he would black out, the grip eased and he sucked in deep breaths of air, filling his starved lungs once again.

"How much?" Diallo asked again, his voice cold, clipped and low.

"Nothing . . . " Starbuck wheezed.

"And you?" Diallo drawled, his face centimetrons from Starbuck's. He stared into fear-filled blue eyes and saw the answer clearly written in their depths. "I thought so," he whispered gently, as though he had somehow found enlightenment in the disclosure. And perhaps some justification in his decided course of action.

Starbuck gazed back at him and saw his own death just as clearly. His energy surged and he thrust his thumbs into the Colonel's eyes, hurling his body upwards and slamming his knee into the Colonel's lower back. He used his upper body to help propel the Colonel over his head.

"Aarrgghh!" Diallo shouted as he crashed into a huge plant, the sharp foliage tearing at his face and hands. His eyes were on fire and he rubbed at them, reassuring himself they were still intact. He tried to scramble blindly forward, distancing himself from the spiny foliage and Starbuck, when he heard a reassuring stampede of footsteps coming his way.

Starbuck rolled over slowly, spent from his exertion and just making it on to all fours, when Brand and Silus crashed on to the scene. Brand assessed the situation on the run and landed a sharp kick to the Cadet's ribs, which sent the young man sprawling. The Sergeant ran to the Colonel, helping him regain his feet. "Secure him. He'll be charged with assaulting an officer." Brand hollered to Silus, just as med tech Zhi and Sergeant Murata ran up pushing Ortega's hover stretcher.

"What happened?" Zhi asked as he moved toward the Colonel. The officer's face was scratched and his eyes watered relentlessly as he rubbed at them.

"He got away from me." Diallo spat as he looked meaningfully at Brand.

"Sir? Brand asked for clarification while he watched Sergeant Silus pull Starbuck's hands behind his back and secure them, while the cadet lay face down on the ground.

"I decided to search him when we got back to the landram. He was wearing a Chobatar sidearm and seemed agitated when I asked him about it. Well, you know how out-of-it he seemed, so I thought I would take a chance at searching him myself." Zhi and Brand both nodded their agreement. "He went ballistic. He tore out of the landram as if Diabolis himself was chasing him. Of course, I pursued. I managed to tackle him here."

"Well done, Sir." Brand praised the colonel.

The colonel shrugged selflessly. "Search him Brand. I'm curious what it is he's hiding."

Brand nodded, patting the cadet down only briefly before reaching into Starbuck's pocket and pulling out a pouch. "Sir." He tossed it over to the colonel.

"Good man, Brand." Diallo opened the pouch. He sucked on his finger and dipped it into the contents, removing it to reveal a luminescent white powder. He cautiously tasted it, "Pure Mazurian coca."

Ortega's eyes widened in amazement. "Holy frack . . . " he muttered as he saw Sergeant Silus trying to pull Starbuck to his feet. The cadet was retching and doubled over in agony only making it to his knees, and completely unaware of what was being said scant metrons away.

Brand pivoted around to face Ortega. "Cadet Ortega, what do you know about this?"

"Nothing, Sir. He must have made the deal before we met up." Apprehension filled him as Ortega saw accusing faces turn his way. "I swear I had nothing to do with this, Sirs! I've never used coca in my life!"

"Easy son. I believe you." Diallo told him empathetically.

"Uh, sir, what happened next?" Zhi asked as he made his way over to the retching cadet, motioning for Silus to let him lie back down.

"Well, he ran for it. I caught up to him here and managed to tackle him. However, I'm not as young as I used to be. He was getting the better of me when you arrived, I'm ashamed to say." Diallo's eyes flickered to the ground briefly. "Thank the Lords you got here when you did."

"Are you all right, Colonel?" Brand asked conscientiously.

"I will be. A bit worried about this eye though. I still don't have my full vision back." Diallo said and he saw Zhi look up at him curiously. "He gouged my eyes."

Zhi nodded in distaste as he started his assessment. The cadet still seemed strangely dazed and disoriented for a guy who had escaped the Colonel, ran away from the landram, and subsequently assaulted the officer. He ran his biomonitor over his patient. Concussion, multiple contusions and fractured ribs, no doubt courtesy of Brand the Butcher. Starbuck's head lolled to the side, as he winced and moaned in discomfort. "Easy there cadet." He reassured him professionally.

"Can we move him, Zhi?" Brand asked.

"Yes. I'd like to get the other hover stretcher though. I don't think he can walk back to the landram." Zhi told them.

"Bovine mong. He ran away from it. He can walk back to it." Brand snarled. He nodded to Silus. "We'll help him." They pushed aside the med tech and hauled the cadet roughly to his feet.

"Sergeant Brand, wait." Diallo ordered him as stood in front of Starbuck, grabbing his jaw and staring balefully into his eyes. "Cadet Starbuck, you are being charged with assault of an officer and possession of illicit drugs for the purpose of trafficking. Do you understand?"

Starbuck shook his head, as the words penetrated his mind. He was sure he was in the middle of a horrible dream. He opened his mouth to deny it all, but words failed him, as he stared back helplessly at the Colonel.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Starbuck slouched down in his seat praying for the shuttle to stop and pick up Phoenix Squadron. There had been few times in his life that he had felt as though he didn't have a friend in the world, and this was definitely one of them. Every time he had looked up to meet someone's eye, a glare of revulsion and loathing hit him full force. If he hadn't felt so vile, it probably wouldn't have fazed him, but when each bump and shift of the transport caused either pain or nausea, it was a different matter.

The only one on board who had managed to maintain a professional decorum was med tech Zhi. Zhi had even managed to convince Brand to restrain Starbuck's hands in front, instead of behind his back. The tech had actually suggested they didn't need restraints at all, but that had spurred on another blast of Brand's temper and the young medic had backed down.

Starbuck sighed as he tried to put the pieces together that would tell him how he had gone from being rescued with Ortega to being charged with . . . trafficking drugs. How in Hades had that come about? He had tried to ask Ortega what had happened, but the cadet had stared at him malignantly and insisted, "don't even talk to me, guttertrash", before taking a seat as far away as possible.

He could feel the shuttle touch down and knew it wouldn't be much longer. What a relief it would be to see Apollo, Dorado and even Tani. Imara would be there too. He wasn't sure how he felt about her seeing him like this. _But you're innocent, Bucko. Remember that. This will all be straightened out tonight and you'll be back in the barracks before you can say hard tack and brackish water._

He kept his gaze trained wearily on the deck as Colonial boots passed by him to open the hatch. His head lolled onto his chest and he forced his drooping eyes open. His urgency to speak with his squadron mates took precedence over his body's need for rest. The hatch hissed open and he looked up hopefully as cadets boarded.

Starbuck's heart sunk as Stamphalian and Hyrcinian Squadrons clambered aboard. Grime covered faces looked upon him curiously and he could hear Ortega filling them in.

"What? Selling coca? Frackin' slimebucket."

"Why do we have to ride with him? Can they put the fracker in the hold?"

"The hold is too good for him. Strap him to the top."

"Yeah, why isn't he on the Phoenix shuttle? We don't want the likes of him here."

Starbuck snorted and reminded himself to not go out of his way to carry Ortega out of any more ravines once this was over. He gathered his disappointment, resentment, and anger close to him, using the intense feelings as an emotional fortress. A shield that would keep him sane for the rest of the flight . . . just barely.

Apollo went over his mental list of things to do as he waited for the shuttle carrying Starbuck and Ortega to land at the Academy. He had expected to see them when they had made their rendezvous in Mazuria, but for some reason, Colonel Diallo had changed assigned shuttles at the last centon, claiming they were closer to the other rendezvous point. The way Apollo saw it, they were splitting hairs.

However, it wouldn't be the first time since he had been at the Academy that he had disagreed with an officer's judgment. According to his father, it wouldn't be the last.

He smiled as he realized he would be seeing Adama the next evening. It was a rare occasion that father and son spent some time together. Of course, Apollo had been unable to get leave, but Adama had promised to come by and visit for a couple centars.

He looked at his chronometer. The Galactica would be approaching Caprica anytime now. His mother, sister and brother would be soon be leaving to pick up the Commander and newly elected member of the Quorum of Twelve. He didn't know where his father found the energy.

"Here they come." Dorado pointed to the shuttle in the distance. He had been pacing relentlessly as they waited.

"Are you really that worried about Starbuck?" Apollo asked with a smile.

"Worried? Hades, no. His head is harder than an anodized cast tylinium pan. I just want to know who has the tokens. Starbuck or Ortega."

Apollo chuckled as he watched the shuttle's approach. He wanted to know as well. After all, it would be a perfect secton-end to get leave with his father in town. Hades, some of the cadets had already set up a bet around it. He had come close to putting a few cubits on Starbuck, but had restrained himself. And luckily there had been no depraved influences there to talk him into it.

Speaking of Starbuck . . . The hatch opened and cadets poured out, eager to hit the turbo wash and the mess, hopefully in that order. Just like Phoenix and Roc Squadrons, Stamphalian and Hyrcinian looked like they had brought most of the grime of the Mazurian Jungle back to the Academy with them.

Apollo headed for the shuttle with Dorado on his heels, eager to check on his friend, and the location of the tokens. The last of the cadets disembarked and Ortega followed them on a hover stretcher, accompanied by several of his squadron mates and a med tech, heading for the nearby infirmary. Apollo paused and looked around, wondering if he had somehow missed Starbuck.

"Apollo . . . " Dorado murmured in alarm.

Apollo looked back at the shuttle to see the missing cadet being pushed out the hatch by Sergeant Brand. Starbuck's arms were restrained in front of him and he appeared disoriented, as he tried to keep pace.

"What the frack . . . " Apollo muttered as he headed over to intercept them. What had happened? The last he knew, Starbuck had a likely head injury, Ortega had wrecked his knee, and Colonel Diallo had rendezvoused with them for a pick-up. Surely to God, this couldn't have anything to do with Diallo's grudge against Starbuck over Imara. Hades, she was a Colonial cadet, not a holy priestess. Even Diallo wouldn't take it this far . . . would he?

Brand gave the cadet another shove, and Starbuck stumbled, losing his balance and crashing to the ground. "Get the frack up, you piece of mong!" Brand snapped. He would feel one Hades of a lot better once the cadet was in the brig, and on the restricted access that was routinely accorded prisoners. The fewer people he talked to, the better. Of all people, Adama's nosy son was just a bit too smart and inquisitive for the sergeant to feel comfortable with a debriefing. Really, once Starbuck was in the brig, his protector would be the only one with unlimited access, and since Captain Corpeus was an old and personal friend of Diallo, that would matter naught.

Starbuck lay on the ground, face against the tarmac, reeling with the pain. Unable to break his fall, he had landed hard. The gorge rose in his throat once again and he started retching.

"Brand!" Apollo hollered as he reached them, partly to draw the man's attention. He had seen that look on the Sergeant's face before, and it didn't bode well for the cadet on the receiving end of it. Damn the consequences; the man was a pit viper. "_What_ is going on?"

Brand switched his attention to the indignant Flight Leader, who was already kneeling down beside the spewing cadet, lying a hand on his shoulder. "Cadet Starbuck was found in the possession of Mazurian coca. When it was discovered, he escaped

custody and then proceeded to attack Colonel Diallo. He's been charged on both counts."

"What?" Apollo asked in shock. He looked across at Dorado who mirrored his disbelief. Oh, a whole lot had happened that he was unaware of. The biggest problem was the person he most trusted to give him an accurate account of the details was the least able to do so. He patted Starbuck's shoulder, realizing the vomiting had ceased, then eased him over on his back. "Starbuck?"

Starbuck's face was a mask of misery and he blinked several times to clear his vision. Tears ran down his cheeks from his gastric exertion. "Apollo . . . " he groaned, his face contorted in pain. Each breath felt as though someone was stabbing him with a dagger.

"Why haven't you called for another hover stretcher?" Apollo asked Brand briskly. "He needs to be in the infirmary."

Cold fear settled in the pit of Brand's stomach. Diallo had specified for the plan to work, Starbuck had to be off limits. He had to go to the brig. "The med tech already checked him out. I'm taking the bilge louse to the brig." Brand replied, reaching down for Starbuck's arm.

Apollo grabbed the Sergeant's wrist, well aware that the brig was not the appropriate place for his friend . . . especially considering Brand was in charge of it. "No, you're not. He needs medical attention." Even if he was accused of insubordination, somehow Apollo knew he was doing the right thing. Ethics before regulations. His mother had taught him that; his father had grudgingly agreed. "Dorado, comm the infirmary. We need a hover stretcher here ASAP." _Lords, where in Hades had that med tech gone? Surely he had assessed Starbuck and realized he needed medical intervention._ He could feel his anxiety rising, as a desperate need to keep Starbuck out of the brig overshadowed everything else.

"What is going on here?" Colonel Diallo's voice bellowed from the shuttle, stopping Dorado in his tracks. "Brand, I gave you an order to clear the tarmac of this filth. Is that a problem, Sergeant?" The Colonel strode over to the small gathering. "Flight leader Apollo." His voice was low and dangerous as he studied Adama's brat.

"Colonel Diallo." Apollo nodded at him, releasing Brand. His brief battle of wills with the sergeant was over now that Diallo had shown up. "Cadet Starbuck needs to be in the infirmary . . . " The pounding of two pairs of boots crossing the tarmac at a run drew his attention. He looked up to see the med tech had returned, with Dr. Alpheus bringing up the rear. He sucked in his breath as he wondered if the cavalry had arrived.

Dr. Alpheus moved to Starbuck's side, breathing hard and ignoring the other men. He ran his biomonitor over the cadet, pausing to run his fingers over Starbuck's skull. He then lifted the cadet's tunic, revealing the beginnings of deep bruising across his ribs, and started palpating his chest.

Starbuck groaned and tried to remove the offending fingertips, but his restraints impeded his movement. "For Sagan's sake, get these bloody things off of him!" Alpheus snapped at Brand through ragged breaths. "I hardly think he's in any kind of shape to run away."

Brand gritted his teeth and blew out a slow breath before leaning down and releasing the restraints. _Frack!_ "Just so you know, Doc, he's up on charges."

"Understood." Alpheus replied, taking his ophthalmoscope and peering into the cadet's eyes. "Starbuck. Do you know where you are?" he asked, after reading the ID badge.

Starbuck winced and turned his head away, murmuring, "Hades?"

Alpheus smiled briefly as he looked up at Brand and Diallo. "Well, I can certainly understand why you'd think that, but no. Try again. Where are you?"

Starbuck shook his head in confusion as he gazed up at the blurry man. He looked familiar, but he couldn't place him. Lords, his head was going supernova. He moaned as his head drooped limply to the side.

"Doc!" Dorado cried in alarm, hovering over the doctor.

"He's just unconscious." Alpheus reassured them. "Where's that bloody hover stretcher, Zhi?"

"They're coming now, Dr. Alpheus." Zhi replied, glad he had gone to get his superior. Diallo and Brand were back in line now that they were up against the old man. Alpheus wouldn't let God Almighty intimidate him, never mind a couple of warriors.

"This cadet has been charged with assault and possession of illicit substances with the intent of trafficking . . . " Diallo started. This was not going according to plan.

"This cadet is my patient." Alpheus interrupted. "As such he will be off-limits to any but medical personnel for the next twelve centars while he undergoes critical medical treatment."

"Dr. Alpheus, I don't believe you understand the severity of . . . "

"No, Colonel, it is you that doesn't bloody understand. MY patient. Under MY treatment. MY rules." Alpheus replied calmly. He watched as his orderlies started loading Starbuck aboard the stretcher, Apollo and Dorado gazing anxiously on. "Twelve centars gentlemen. Not a micron less." He repeated before following his patient to the infirmary.

----------

_Beep beep beep beep beep. _His eyes opened sleepily as the alarm persisted. He glanced around looking for a med tech to come and see what was wrong with the fracking biomonitor this time. As he looked down at the pads attached to his chest, he realized that one had come undone.

Starbuck's eyes settled on the med tech, who was busy with another patient half way across the infirmary. Her gaze shot over to him, her annoyance at the constant alarming finally getting to her. She raised her hand to him, letting him know that she was aware of the situation and would get to him as soon as she could.

He closed his eyes again. _Beep beep beep beep beep._

Lords, you would think a guy could get some sleep in the infirmary. It was worse than the barracks when it came to noise, activity, and foul odours. How could so many people be sick, injured, or just plain . . . constipated?

Of course, it was just Starbuck's typical luck that he ended up in the cubicle next to Sergeant 'strain' and 'grunt', as the cadet was immobilized in regeneration sleeves and connected to monitors on just about every other available patch of skin. Maybe the brig wouldn't have been so bad after all.

Suddenly, the alarm stopped. Starbuck opened his eyes to see a pudgy, balding man with glasses poised on the end of his nose, who glanced down over the top of them, peering at the clipboard holding the cadet's chart. "How are you feeling, Starbuck?"

"Better." Starbuck croaked out, his throat dry and hoarse. There didn't seem to be enough water available to slake his thirst. He nodded appreciatively as the man handed him a glass of water to sip on.

"Your ribs are almost healed. I expect your breathing is easier now?"

Starbuck sucked on the straw, greedily drinking the cool beverage. He nodded as he thought back to the hazy recollections of his arrival in the treatment center. Lords, he'd felt as if he'd been shot out of a launch tube without the benefit of a fighter wrapped around him. Doctors and med techs had swarmed over him, using medical vernacular that left his head aching even more. They scanned, poked, and prodded him until he had cried out for solitude. Then they pestered him some more.

"Where are you?"

"Caprica Academy. The infirmary." Starbuck replied. He had answered the same questions just about every three centars as the night progressed. Who are you? Where are you? What's the date? Hades, even the most dimwitted of fools would be getting it right by now. After all, he was.

"Who am I?" The kindly looking man asked.

"I . . . don't know. You're a doctor?" He asked quizzically. He vaguely remembered the man from the night before, but most of it was just fleeting images.

"Dr. Alpheus. I'm the chief medical officer. How's the head?"

"Better." The throbbing had settled down to a dull ache.

"Your vision?" Alpheus reached forward and tilted up Starbuck's chin, once again shining a light in his eyes.

"Good."

"How many toes am I holding up?" Alpheus asked, wiggling three fingers over his head.

Starbuck grinned. "That's weak, Doc."

"Works on my grandkids." He replied with a smile. "Well, Starbuck, I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is, your injuries are healing nicely and you'll be able to be discharged from the infirmary later this morning."

"To the brig." Starbuck finished, eying the leg iron that had been secured around his right ankle since his admission.

"To the brig." The CMO agreed. "You may have some residual dizziness and headache for a few days, but that should improve. I'll give you a three day supply of analgesia to help with the headaches and other discomforts. Your protector has been champing at the bit to get in here. I did tell everyone you were off limits until 0900, but it's your call, cadet."

"Can I see the Phoenix Flight Leader, Apollo?" Starbuck asked.

"Not your protector?" Alpheus asked.

"I'll be seeing him later anyhow. No, I really need to talk to Apollo." More than anything else, he had to ensure that the squadron knew he was innocent. The rest would fall into place.

----------

**Starbuck stared at the pale yellow walls of the isolation cubicle, noting the faded blotches, the cracks and scrapes, and the general . . . sickly appearance of the closet-sized room. Not a great atmosphere to inspire healing. More like the final resting place for the terminally ill. Or the criminally doomed. Still, he mused, it was better than the main ward, where**the other patients had been looking at him curiously, especially when Security Officer Keane made his usual rounds and made a point of checking his restrained leg. Keane had **smiled coldly, saying a bit louder than necessary,** "See you later, Cadet! We have your usual cell ready in the brig!" **as he strolled on out**.

Well, from that point, Sergeant 'flatulence' had been watching his every move. At first, Starbuck had just ignored him. However, when the man pulled back his curtain and turned his body so he could **stare without interruption at the cadet**, Starbuck had had enough. He glared and snarled at the gastrointestinal nightmare, rattling his chains. The Sergeant had dropped his filled-to-capacity urinal, and med techs had come running.

"Cadet Starfire?"

**The self-assured voice interrupted the cadet's musings, and** Starbuck looked up to see a tall, gaunt, middle-aged man with the worst comb-over he had ever laid eyes on. The man stood defiantly at the entrance to his cubicle with an upset med tech just behind him.

"Starbuck." The cadet replied, looking at him curiously.

"Right." He nodded. "I'm Captain Corpeus. I'm going to be representing you at the tribunal, if indeed it comes to that."

"Captain, I've already told you that Chief Medical Officer Alpheus has ordered that Cadet Starbuck is not to be disturbed until after 0900 centars." The med tech gazed beseechingly at the Captain.

"Cadet Starbuck has some basic civil rights and one of those is having his protector available to him in a timely manner." The Captain leaned forward until he was towering over the young med tech. "Are you denying him that right, med tech . . . What is your name?" He glowered at her.

"Uh . . . no, sir. I'm just trying to follow Doctor's orders." She replied as she looked over her shoulder, hoping the CMO was nearby.

"Well, then, you may go tell the Doctor that his patient's counsel has arrived. If he would like to go on record as denying this young man access to his protector, I would be pleased to file a report and send it to Commander Argus. Not only that, but I will be forwarding it to the Accreditations Department, thereby ensuring that this information will find its way to the pertinent people and the next unfortunate cadet will receive better treatment." The Captain then firmly shut the door in her face.

Corpeus walked over to the only chair in the room and pulled it up to Starbuck's biobed, talking as he went. "Well, Starfire, I've been busy this morning. I've poured over the submitted reports and have spoken with Captain Lupus already. He's willing to make a deal. In fact, he's very optimistic that we can all put this behind us by the end of the day. How does that sound, son?" He leaned back in his chair while fingering a datapad.

"It's Starbuck. Who's Captain Lupus?" Starbuck asked. He might feel a tad more optimistic if the protector could remember his name. Hades, maybe Corpeus had the wrong guy!

"Right. Starbuck." He nodded. "Lupus is the designated opposer in your case. He's in a good mood today. Normally, the guy goes for blood. I'm flabbergasted that I've convinced him to make a deal at all."

The smile that settled on the protector's face **sent a shiver down the cadet's spine.** It was like watching a bilge rat grin. "What's the deal?" Starbuck asked. This seemed to be going a little too quickly, even for a fighter pilot. **He felt his stomach tighten into a knot.**

**"We --"**

**Corpeus stopped as t**he door opened to reveal Apollo. The Flight Leader **paused on the threshold at the sight of the captain.**

"Excuse me. We're involved in a confidential discussion. I'll have the med tech inform you when you can return." Corpeus told him as he rose and walked to the door with every intent of shutting it in Apollo's face.

"Wait! I'd like him to be here." Starbuck declared, holding up his hands in protest.

That was all the encouragement Apollo needed to take two steps in the room and shut the door firmly behind him. He stepped around the protector, muttering "Captain", **and positioned himself firmly next to the biobed before the man could say anything else** "How are you feeling?" **he asked Starbuck quietly, after quickly appraising the protector. **

**Starbuck met his friend's eyes briefly, "I'll let you know when we're done here." He returned his gaze to** Corpeus. "So, what's this deal?"

Corpeus sighed **loudly, still glaring at****Apollo** as he returned to the chair. **Then he turned** to face Starbuck, **pointedly ignoring the other cadet**. "We downgrade your charge to possession of illicit substances and assaulting an officer. That way there's no mandatory sentence of time served. We can settle without a formal tribunal. As I said, we can conclude everything by the end of the day."

Starbuck **felt the knot in his stomach twist as** he shook his head in confusion. "Wait a micron. Where exactly does that leave me?"

"Expelled. But, there will be no tribunal, and no time served for trafficking drugs." Corpeus nodded encouragingly at him.

"But I didn't do it!" Starbuck exploded vehemently.

"Right." Corpeus nodded **calmly, his expression dripping with skepticism**.

"I didn't!" Starbuck repeated, his gaze torn between Corpeus and Apollo.

Apollo nodded reassuringly at him and put a hand on his shoulder, "Starbuck, I've read the official report too. What _really_ happ . . . . ?"

"If you don't mind, Cadet, I'm the protector; I'll ask the questions." Corpeus cut him off, climbing to his feet and stretching himself to his full height so he could look down his nose at the flight leader. He glanced again at Starbuck, "Cadet, the evidence to the contrary is very strong. We have five eyewitnesses that saw Sergeant Brand remove the coca from your possession."

"I didn't _have_ any coca, so how in Hades could he have taken it off of me?" Starbuck asked in exasperation.

"Quite." Corpeus nodded indifferently, as he folded his arms across his chest and sighed. "This would be much more straightforward if you told the truth, Cadet." He said quietly. "I've already seen all the admissible evidence. This deal really is the best you can hope for. You're too young to throw away ten yahrens of your life for trafficking, son."

Starbuck opened his mouth to protest, then shut it in horror as the phrase "ten yahrens of your life" echoed through his mind. His stomach turned inside out after climbing outside through his guts to slap him across the face. "I don't feel so well." He ran his fingers lightly back through his hair and bowed his head, closing his eyes tightly.

"Wait just a micron." Apollo demanded angrily. "You haven't even asked him what really happened." His eyes narrowed as the protector simply held up his datapad as if to aver he had all the facts he needed. "This is ridiculous! If you're not even going to explore the possibility that he's telling the truth, he doesn't have a chance! What kind of defense is this?"

"A state funded one." Captain Corpeus replied politely, with a pointed glance at the cadet who had had his education subsidized by the state due to his official status as an orphan of the millennium war. "Give it some thought, Starbuck. I'll come back and see you in a couple centars."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Starbuck stared at the door as it closed behind the protector. He blinked as he considered the man's words. Apparently, he wasn't eligible for a decent defense based on the fact that he had no money. Captain Corpeus was evidently at the bottom of the barrel for state appointed counsel. That was why the man wanted the case tied up by the end of the day. That was all the effort he was willing to put in to it.

"I'm so fracked." Starbuck muttered as he shook his head, feeling a desperate desire to run or . . . maybe just to trash the room. He jerked his leg, and the restraint clanged loudly against the rail of the biobed, the noise somehow comforting. An immediate result to an action. Oh, it wasn't much, but it still felt good. He did it again, this time denting the rail.

"Hey." Apollo put a restraining hand on his shoulder, as he watched Starbuck's white knuckles gripping the rails of the biobed. "That's not going to help."

"Tell me what is." Starbuck sniffed, his body tight with tension, his mind overwhelmed.

"You could start by telling me what happened." Apollo replied, deliberately calm as he pulled up the chair.

"Didn't you hear him? It's all in the report." Starbuck retorted as he watched the Phoenix leader turn the chair around and straddle it.

"I don't believe that." Apollo shook his head curtly.

Starbuck considered him for a moment. _You don't?_ --He thought, somewhat surprised. Tears pricked his eyes for a split micron and he blinked rapidly to clear them. He was not going to start feeling sorry for himself! He ran a hand over his face, covering his tumultuous emotions. _Buck up, Cadet! _

One of the many facts of life was that it was inequitable. He had lived his entire life, at least what he remembered of it, knowing that. Hades, it had been drilled into him, not in words, but in behavior and treatment. It had given him a thick skin and a cynical attitude.

Well, here it was once again, kicking him in the teeth. Someone had once told him it's not what happens to you, but how you react to it that matters. He let out a deep breath as he tried to remind himself of that. Maybe if it hadn't come from a ten-yahren old girl with porcine-tails in her hair . . .

"I think I've come to know you pretty well, Starbuck. You're no drug trafficker or user." Apollo's voice bordered on contemptuous as he watched the effect the situation was having on his usually carefree friend. "The life style just isn't compatible with being a fighter pilot. Especially a pilot with your reflexes and instinct."

Starbuck studied the flight leader. Apollo exuded sincerity, determination and indignation; three qualities that he had come to equate with the man. "You sound more pissed than I am."

"Damn right I'm pissed!" Apollo exploded, his face flushing as he tried to control his anger. "A state appointed protector just walked in here and told you you're not worth his trouble. He should be reported and disbarred!" _How dare Corpeus! All Capricans were entitled to the same legal defense, despite their income!_

A faint smile hovered on Starbuck's lips. For some reason, Apollo being just as upset, if not more so, made him feel better about the entire situation. _Face it, you just find it comforting to see him lose his temper. It gives you hope that there's still order in the universe._ "Uh, can we work on getting me off the hook before we get Corpeus disbarred? I do better work when I'm not incarcerated."

Apollo smiled ruefully in return and nodded. "Okay, tell me what happened. From the beginning."

----------

The third time will be the charm; at least that's what she'd always heard. Well, this was the third time Imara had drummed up the courage to enter the infirmary, and once again she stood poised at the bottom of the steps with her hand on the rail.

There were too many fracking steps. That was the real problem.

Too many steps. Ain't it the truth. Step one: learn that Starbuck had been hauled off to the infirmary with a head injury and under custody for trafficking drugs and assaulting her father. Step two: have an internal battle all night long, trying to convince yourself that Starbuck could possibly be guilty of the charges. Step three: finally realize that you saw no evidence of his supposed drug-addicted personality and brutal aggression towards senior officers. Step four: come to the conclusion that said charges were complete and utter felgercarb. Step five: suspect that Starbuck was totally set up by her father and his whacko sidekick, Sergeant Brand. Step six: get up the courage to go see Starbuck to find out what the frack happened.

A six-step program. Each step tortuous and a voyage of self-discovery. Hades, she felt like she had just undergone some new and advanced self-analytical evaluation. Just thinking about it left a bad taste in her mouth.

Starbuck . . .

He had been a thing of beauty when she had first laid eyes upon him. It wasn't so much his good looks, as it was his spirit that had first attracted her.

Coming from a home with a father who had been a strict disciplinarian and a mother who had spent more time berating her children than encouraging them, Imara had ended up a bit . . . introverted.

Oh, she knew she had a sense of humour. And every man with a pulse, from her teachers to strangers on the street, had convinced her she was attractive. She even had an intelligence quotient that had universities attempting to recruit her, before she finally made up her mind to follow in her father's footsteps and enter the Caprican Academy.

Yeah, according to her friends, she had all the goods; she just didn't know how to package them. Then she saw Starbuck.

Hades, it was almost two yahrens ago when she first felt that breeze of fresh air gently caress her. He just had an easy way about him that led her to believe that everything he did was effortless. It was like listening to the most incredible crooner sing, or watching the most fluid of dancers circle a ballroom. He was akin to watching the most intuitive of pilots become one with his fighter . . . oh yeah, that _was_ Starbuck.

Okay, maybe she had a little crush on him.

Her rational side had told her that they came from two different worlds, her background rich in tradition, obedience, achievement and his . . . well, truth be known, he hadn't really talked much about it, but she instinctively knew it was vastly different. She had heard the stories about his frequent, yet always casual relationships. His on-going search for the ultimate card game. His practical jokes. His incessant need to find the shades of grey between the military rules that were so black and white.

Yet, for all his vices, everybody seemed to like Starbuck. Well, other than Ortega, and he had been spawned, after all.

Then that day had finally come when they had almost collided in the commissary. His hand had been warm on her arm, as he steadied her and impulsively asked her out. She had known it was spur of the moment, she could see it in his eyes. He had looked thoughtful and then put on a devil-may-care grin before saying, "Imara, tonight's supposed to be a beautiful night. Would you like to sneak out and share some moonlight with me?" It was the merriment in those twinkling blue eyes that did her in.

Her mother had once told her in a candid moment, that the best parts of love were infatuation and lust. Well, admittedly she didn't know much about love, but she was damned sure that infatuation and lust exceeded all of her expectations. Being with Starbuck was the closest she been to flying without the benefit of her Starfighter.

Yeah, that probably would sound ridiculous to anybody else, especially since they had only gone on two dates. But, sometimes life was about intensity.

Her cheeks flushed as she thought about their passionate encounter. Oh, she had run it over in her mind time and time again by now. She had been surprised by her fervor when Starbuck had kissed her and began caressing her sensuously. She knew he too had been a little surprised at her enthusiastic response.

"Must be the moonlight." She had muttered to his delight, as he had lifted her up in his arms and carried her to a stack of survival supplies where she pulled him down beside her. What they lacked in atmosphere, they made up for in passion, enthusiasm and ecstasy.

Imara chewed her lip as she thought back to her denial of 'sleeping together' to Apollo. Admittedly, they didn't do any sleeping, so really it was just a little fabrication of the truth. Of course, at the time, she had been hurt at the idea of Starbuck blabbing about his conquest to his buddies. Then she had found out that he hadn't done anything of the kind. That was when she had first started thinking about falling in . . .

_Don't even think about it! There is no way in Hades you and Starbuck are going to pull this relationship out of the burning wreck that it's become. Frack! _Life was just so damned unfair at times.

"Imara."

Apollo's voice startled her out of her reverie. She quickly averted her head and wiped away the tears that trailed down her cheeks.

"Are you okay?" Apollo put a hand on Imara's shoulder, turning her towards him. He was startled to see she had been crying.

She nodded briefly, her eyes flickering back to the doors of the infirmary. "Did you see Starbuck?"

Apollo nodded. From what Starbuck had told him, Imara was also witness to a lot that he had heard in the hangar. "He told me everything, Imara." Her eyes searched his own. "Everything."

"Oh." She replied, dropping her gaze. She couldn't stand Commander Adama's son knowing what her father had done. She wished she could close her eyes and just disappear from the shame of it all. Her father's and her own.

"You're his only chance, Imara. His protector wants him to cut a deal and accept expulsion. Corpeus didn't even want to listen to the truth." Apollo grasped her other shoulder. He had been about to go looking for her when he had opened the door of the infirmary to find her hesitating on the bottom of the stairwell.

She could feel tears welling in her eyes once again. She could choose between betraying Starbuck or her father. That was the black and white edition. In reality, if she betrayed her father, she would destroy her family . . . and likely her future. Her chest felt tight and she covered her face with her hand, feeling Apollo's penetrating gaze upon her.

"I can't . . . " she choked out, before her voice failed her. She swallowed the sobs that threatened to consume her. Oh, this was not going well!

"Imara, this is Starbuck's life we're talking about." Apollo begged her.

She shook her head, knowing he didn't understand what she meant. Honestly, she wanted to help Starbuck, she just didn't know how to do it without destroying her father. Her gaze once again turned to the doorway. She couldn't see Starbuck right now. Not like this. She pulled away from Apollo.

"I'm sorry . . . " she muttered, as she turned towards the barracks and ran.

----------

Apollo had once been told that to gain a true understanding of a person, one had to put himself in her shoes. He snorted to himself as he tried to comprehend what Imara must be going through.

Really, he wasn't clear as to her relationship with Starbuck. Once again, he couldn't help but think that Starbuck had been unusually closed-mouthed about them. It kind of made him suspect that their relationship had either crashed and burned and his friend was too humiliated to discuss it, or it had been the beginning of something really special.

Obviously, Imara was feeling distraught. The problem being, was it due to her concern for her father, her concern for Starbuck, or both? Clearly, she wouldn't be as inclined to help the cadet if her father was her sole consideration.

On the other hand, Imara was an ethical person, and it was just plain wrong to let things evolve as Diallo and Brand had meant them to. Perhaps she just needed some time to figure things out. Apollo was uncertain just how much time Starbuck had though. Lords, he wished he was further along in his studies of the criminal code. He should really make a point of speaking with his professor to better understand his friend's rights. Surely to God, there was an alternative to Captain Corpeus.

He also needed a few points clarified in the official report. He methodically ran through his mental record of where Starbuck's story varied from Diallo's. Unfortunately, Starbuck's recollection of his actual arrest was a bit hazy, as was everything else from a centon before that right up until he was treated on the landram.

As he walked towards the commissary, he caught sight of the slight med tech that had cared for Starbuck. As luck would have it, Zhi appeared to be moving in the same direction as the Phoenix leader. He picked up his pace until he caught up to him.

"Med Tech Zhi?"

Zhi turned around, his mop of dark hair falling into his eyes. He nodded at Apollo, brushing his hair away. "Apollo, right? You're Cadet Starbuck's flight leader."

"Right. Do you mind if I ask you a couple questions about yesterday?"

"Of course not. I was waiting for someone to. I just thought it would be Starbuck's protector, not his squadron leader." Zhi shrugged.

"So did I." Apollo mumbled. "Uh, maybe you can just give me your impressions of what happened first of all."

Zhi smiled. "You're new at this, aren't you? Sure. When I got there, Starbuck had a decreased level of consciousness. He was drowsy, but roused easily. Especially when Colonel Diallo barked at him." He added distastefully. "He was in pain, and was nauseated. I wanted to treat him first, but Diallo as much as ordered me to treat Ortega, who in contrast was alert, oriented and appeared stable."

"The next part was really weird. Colonel Diallo should know . . . so should Sergeant Brand, for that matter . . . you don't move someone with a head injury until he's been assessed, but they hauled him to his feet . . . " Zhi's fine features suddenly filled with humour as his mind recalled the ensuing events.

"What?" Apollo asked curiously.

Zhi grinned widely, "Oh, Starbuck projectile vomited all over Brand. It was almost worth it." A shadow crossed his face.

"Worth what?" Apollo asked.

Zhi bit his lip, instinctively looking around him. "Colonel Diallo treated Starbuck like an enemy spy, not one of his cadets. It was disgusting. Hades, he was even ordering me around like I was some first year tech that didn't know my astrum from my elbow. He's supposed to defer to my expertise at this point." He grumbled.

"Then what?" Apollo asked the disgruntled tech.

"Well, then I assessed Ortega, which took all of three centons. I told him the splint they had put together had done a great job of immobilizing his injury. He told me Starbuck rigged it. I think he was a little in awe of Starbuck at that point, especially after he realized the guy was really injured. No wonder the cadet collapsed, practically carrying Ortega out of that ravine, all the time sporting a concussion. Amazing what the human body can endure."

"Diallo has intimated in his report that Starbuck was able to achieve this solely due to his coca usage." Apollo told the tech, anxious for his take on that.

"Figures. Well, the only problem with that theory is we did a drug screen on Starbuck as soon as we got him into the infirmary. Dr. Alpheus insisted on it, considering the charges. It was negative. No evidence of coca use, either recent or sustained."

"Sustained?" Apollo enquired, unsure of the ramifications of prolonged coca use.

"There are clinical indications that reflect subtle changes in liver function when someone has been abusing coca. None of those changes were evident with Starbuck."

Apollo nodded calmly, while his hope of clearing his friend soared. "Admissible evidence."

"Absolutely." Zhi agreed. "It's in the medical report."

"Did you see them find the coca on Starbuck?"

"Yeah, but let me back up a bit before that. I was starting to tell you; I ended up waiting for Sergeants Brand, Murata and Silus for quite a while. I was anxious to assess Starbuck, after all. Well, they finally arrived and we loaded up Ortega. They still were in no hurry to get back to the landram. Again, it just seemed weird. Then we heard Colonel Diallo yell. Well, that got them moving. Brand and Silus took off ahead of us. When we caught up to them, Starbuck was face down on the ground being restrained by Silus. Diallo was a bit scratched up, but otherwise seemed fine. He made it seem like Starbuck had overpowered him. Frankly, from the shape the cadet was in, I find it highly unlikely. Ridiculous even."

"This is the part Starbuck doesn't remember." Apollo commented.

"No doubt. He was half-conscious. In pain, retching . . . " he shook his head at the memory. "Diallo started telling us how Starbuck took off from the landram and he tackled him. Then he got Brand to search Starbuck. Brand basically leaned over him and pulled out the coca."

"He planted it." Apollo suggested.

"Don't lead your witness."

"Have you studied the Code?" Apollo asked, with a rueful smile.

"No, but I've seen enough episodes of _Code and Decree_ to be aware of it." Zhi grinned in reply. "He may have planted it. I couldn't really tell. But . . . "

"What?" Apollo prompted.

"Brand asked Ortega if he had any part in it. Well, Ortega denied it, of course. He looked like he was about to have an anxiety attack over it. Diallo as much told him not to worry about it. That he believed him. It just seemed . . . weird."

"How so?" Apollo asked to clarify.

"Well, he was so willing to incriminate Starbuck, but didn't have the slightest hesitation about believing Ortega's innocence. It just didn't make sense. After all, Ortega was with Starbuck. He had every opportunity to be in on a deal."

"Well, they don't exactly have a history of getting along." Apollo explained.

"Yeah, that's why it would be so perfect if they were in league together." Zhi suggested with a grin. "Right out of the second season, episode finale . . . uh, sorry. Guess I'm getting carried away." He winced, a bit embarrassed.

"Don't be. With your testimony alone, Starbuck stands a pretty good chance of this going to tribunal." Apollo smiled in appreciation. It had been an open and shut case based on Diallo's report. With Zhi's input, Apollo had enough to force Captain Corpeus to take it to tribunal. He hoped.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Starbuck glanced at his chronometer as he shuffled for the one hundred and thirty-seventh time, give or take a hand or two, the deck of cards that the med tech had found for him. It had been over a centar since Apollo had left. That meant that Captain Corpeus should be along any centon to hear his decision.

Lords, he wished he knew what Apollo was up to.

He dealt out another hand of _Solitarian_, not missing the irony in the name of the game. He sighed. _If things don't go your way, you'll be playing Solitarian for ten yahrens, Bucko._

The waiting was the hardest part. Starbuck wasn't accustomed to having people _do_ things for him, at least things that were likely to alter the course of his life. Hades, he had always steered his own ship before, navigated his own path through life. He was proud to be independent, on a situational as well as emotional level. He knew how to maintain his distance, and people seemed to recognize that and return it in kind. Well, at least until he had joined Phoenix Squadron. They were a special group of people. And then there was Imara. He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.

Imara. She must really be choked at him. Well, the tables had certainly turned on that situation. Life is so bloody strange sometimes. Yesterday, he was wondering how to proceed with exposing Diallo and Brand. Today he was just trying to survive. Ah, the story of his life.

Maybe he was getting too cocky again. Some God or other was trying to tell him something. If you spend too much time talking about making your own luck and deciding your own fate, then some supernatural power is bound to send you a message. He grinned. Well, at least the egregious being had a sense of irony. That was encouraging. _Deal the cards, Pal. You're thinking again._

"Starbuck . . . "

He jumped, not expecting to hear her voice. He sure in Hades wasn't expecting to see her. But there she was. Now if he could just find his voice again . . .

"I've been trying to get up the courage to come see you all morning." Imara told him as she walked slowly into the cubicle. She winced as she studied the bruises across his torso. She bit her lip as she noticed the leg iron. _Frack._

"I didn't think you would." Starbuck admitted, somewhat relieved to see her again. After all, if things didn't work out . . .

She dropped her gaze, feeling ashamed. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too." He whispered, his voice husky with emotion.

"_You're_ sorry?" Imara looked at him in surprise. "What are _you_ sorry for?"

"Losing you . . . "

"Frack, Starbuck, don't do that to me!" She whirled away from him, her eyes again filling with tears. "Don't mess with me like that!" she choked out.

"I'm not . . . " He denied. It was true. If he could just go back and change it all he would, solely for the sake of not losing her. If he hadn't known about Diallo and his arms smuggling, he would have just as soon stayed ignorant about it all, if he could be with Imara again. _Anybody up there listening? Here's your big chance to prove you exist! Any takers?_ No sudden burst of light. Time didn't seem to be reversing. Still a leg iron on his ankle. _Figures. _

"I . . . I don't know what to do." Imara told him honestly. She had meant to ask him what happened. She had wanted him to tell her he was innocent of all charges. Now, she realized that she had known it all along; she didn't need him to verify it.

He watched her shoulders tremble. Her slender hand wiped at her face briskly. Still she kept her back to him, unwilling to face him. Starbuck reached out a hand to her, unsure of what to say, but wanting to comfort her. He couldn't quite touch her. She was just out of reach . . . of course. "Hey . . . "

She turned slowly to face him. His hand was still outstretched, enticing her. He smiled slightly. It didn't reach his eyes though. She reached out to him . . .

"Time to go to the brig, cadet."

Brand's voice penetrated the atmosphere like a splash of ice-cold water. Starbuck felt Imara's fingertips brush his briefly before she again turned her back, hiding her emotions and thoughts from him. He gulped in a breath and it escaped raggedly as he composed himself. He would _not_ let Brand see him like this.

Brand dropped something on his lap. Starbuck looked down to see his filthy uniform from the day before. He narrowed his eyes in distaste, until he recalled . . .

"Get dressed. You have two centons." Brand snapped as he released the ankle restraint. He turned sharply on his heel and left.

"I'll get you some scrubs." Imara spoke softly, as she too eyed the soiled clothing.

"No!" He spoke abruptly, before she could turn to leave. "Wait." He added softly.

"What?" she whispered, afraid to get too close. _A bit late for that, girl._

"I have two centons. Come here." He told her throatily, holding a hand out to her.

She nodded, blinking back tears once again. Imara moved into his arms and he pulled her close, enfolding her in his warmth. "Shouldn't you be . . .?"

"No, " he replied. At this moment, there was nothing more important in the world.

----------

The commissary was crowded and noisy as Apollo made his way to Phoenix Squadron's usual table. He spotted Ortega as he crossed the room. How could he not? He tried to keep the smirk off his face, but when Ortega had shaved his head, the purple dye had lingered, staining each root and blanketing his scalp in a purple and flesh coloured mosaic. _Yeah, you better get this out of your system before you ask him any questions. Wouldn't do to laugh in his face._

"Apollo! What's happening with Starbuck?" Dorado asked as the flight leader sat down. Concern was evident on his features.

Apollo sighed. While he would love to share the burden and reveal everything to the squadron, he knew he would have more room to maneuver within the Code if he kept things as confidential as possible. "His protector offered him a deal. I don't think he'll accept it. He'll probably get moved to the brig later this morning and await tribunal."

"Apollo! Never mind that felgercarb, how is he?" Tani asked.

"He's okay. A bit bruised, but other than that, he seemed okay." Apollo replied.

"We tried to get in to see him, but Dr. Alpheus turned us out." Dorado told him.

"All twelve of us." Quinn added with a mock grin.

"Interesting planning." Apollo smiled, imagining just how twelve cadets showing their faces in the already bustling infirmary would be received.

"We wanted to show our support." Rhea inserted. "A united front."

Apollo nodded. He wasn't going to mention that Starbuck would have been more impressed with a visit from one of them, than by _not_ seeing twelve of them because they made their stand. "Dorado. Tani. I need to ask you, was there ever a time where Starbuck was out of your sight and, in theory, able to make a drug deal?" It was a safe question. They all knew what Starbuck had been charged with, after all.

"No." Dorado replied without hesitation.

"Never." Tani averred almost simultaneously.

"Well . . . at least until he was in the ravine with Ortega, speaking in a practical sense only, you understand." Dorado added as Tani glared at him.

"I refuse to believe it!" Tani hissed.

Apollo smiled at her. "So do I, Tani. We just need all the facts here." He tried to adjust his thinking to Tani defending Starbuck, instead of sniping at him. Well, apparently that exercise had worked.

Dorado leaned in towards the Phoenix leader, his voice low. "I've given it a lot of thought. He never had the opportunity, unless there was a drug dealer in the canopy of the jungle." His voice was serious, in contradiction to his words. "The only chance he had was in the ravine. You need to talk to Ortega to eliminate that possibility."

Apollo nodded, considering his words. "Okay. Might as well get it over with." He drew in a deep breath as he looked over to the Stamphalian table.

"I'll come with you. Believe it or not, we actually developed some camaraderie with Kardon after carrying Orcus through the jungle to the rendezvous point. They may be more receptive if we're both there. After all, you're so damned intimidating when you get that intense look."

Apollo smiled as he nodded his agreement. Dorado wanted to be involved. He understood that. The cadet was a good friend of Starbuck's.

Together they moved towards Ortega. Kardon's eyes settled on them metrons before they reached the squadron. He nudged Ortega and murmured something in his ear, drawing his attention.

"Dorado. Apollo." Kardon nodded at them as they approached. "Give us some privacy, guys." He spoke to the rest of the table.

Apollo relaxed as the rest of Stamphalian Squadron stood up to leave. He had not really expected any help from within their group. He followed Dorado's cue and sat down across from the men.

"How's Starbuck?" Kardon asked politely.

"Fine, under the circumstances." Apollo replied. He noticed Ortega nod slightly. "Ortega, I need to ask you if there was any opportunity for Starbuck to procure the coca when he was with you."

"No." Ortega shook his head. "It would have been before that. It was just him and I. No one else came near us until we met up with Colonel Diallo."

"Actually . . . " Dorado started to interrupt, with every intention of setting Ortega straight.

"Dorado." Apollo warned. He just wanted the facts. He didn't want to start an argument. "Did you see Sergeant Brand take the coca off Starbuck?"

Ortega nodded. "Yeah. That I did see."

"Did you notice anything unusual about that?" Apollo probed, thinking of Zhi's observations.

"Unusual how?" Ortega asked.

"Did anything strike you as amiss?" Apollo probed again.

"No." Ortega shrugged, scratching the back of his purple scalp. "Brand searched him and found the coca. It was cut and dry."

"Med Tech Zhi mentioned that Brand asked you about your involvement."

"Hey, I had nothing to do with it!" Ortega flushed angrily.

"I'm not accusing you." Apollo reassured him. "I was just curious why Diallo would so readily acquit you of any involvement, when you were with Starbuck."

"He must have realized the deal happened before I became involved." Ortega shrugged.

"Not according to Dorado and Tani." Apollo interjected.

"Yeah, we were with Starbuck the entire time. We didn't even come across any Chobatars until we ran into you guys." Dorado elucidated.

"Hmm. Maybe you should look a little further as to the involvement of more Phoenix pilots, Apollo. Perhaps Starbuck isn't the only one involved." Ortega suggested, appraising Dorado meaningfully.

Dorado started to jump to his feet, even as Kardon reached forward and grasped his wrist, pulling him back down. They all took a quick glance at the duty officer, who was nose deep into a bowl of gruel.

"I'll handle this, Dorado." Kardon told him. "Sagan's Sake, Ortega, you know just as well as the rest of us there's no fracking drug problem at the Academy. Starbuck hauled your astrum out of that ravine, you could show a little appreciation instead of accusing the entire fracking Squadron of trafficking drugs!"

"Hey, if it wasn't for the _hero_," Ortega spat bitterly, "I wouldn't have been accused . . . "

"You weren't accused, Starbuck was." Apollo interjected, grateful for Kardon's intervention. "You were only questioned. Anyone else in your position would have been too."

Ortega glared back at him, still resentful and angry that Starbuck had almost involved him in his drug deal. "Hey, Starbuck spent some time on the streets. This just confirms it; Guttertrash don't change their ways."

"Yeah, you ought to know." Dorado hissed back at him.

"Hey, this isn't helping anybody." Kardon intervened again.

"Exactly. We're trying to help Starbuck here . . . " Apollo joined him.

"No, that's where you've got it wrong, Apollo. _You're_ trying to help Starbuck. I have no intention of helping that gallmonging piece of felgercarb." Ortega snarled back. There was just too much history between them. Too much hatred.

-----------

Ortega watched Apollo and Dorado walk away angrily. He ignored the dirty, sidelong stare that Kardon gave him and dove back into his meal.

"That's hardly in keeping with Colonial allegiance and decorum, Ortega." Kardon grumbled at the cadet. "I know you and Starbuck don't get along, but I think you owe him for what he did out there in the field yesterday."

Ortega paused with his fork in mid-air. "That's where you and I differ, I don't think I owe Starbuck anything. The strong survive and the weak don't. It doesn't matter who their friends are."

"You know, the more I get to know you, the less I like you." Kardon told him, his voice low.

Ortega smiled slightly while looking unflinchingly at his plate. "Why don't you go ruminate on that and let me finish my repast in peace?"

"Fine. But you have a few things to learn about people, Ortega." Kardon told him as he stood to leave.

Ortega snorted and took another bite. "I've learned all I need to know," he muttered with a full mouth as he watched his squadron mate cross the commissary. Yeah, he knew just about all there was to know about people. Personal experience had taught him several lessons. Most of them starting when he was ten yahrens old. That was when the accident had occurred that had changed the course of his life.

He could still recall in fleeting memories his parents calling up the stairs to him, trying to coax him down to kiss them goodbye. His mother had looked decidedly un-motherly, all dressed up in a new gown with her platinum blonde hair swept up on top of her head. His father was in his usual dress clothes that he wore to every sealing, funeral or party that he had ever attended, at least as far back as Ortega could remember. Lords, he wished he had gone to them, but he was too busy sulking. After all, they were leaving him with a child minder overnight, while they went to Caprica City to see a musical production. If he had only known . . .

The next morning, he had awakened to find the same child minder on the telecom with the Caprican Children's Welfare Ministry. Within centars he had been in a state funded orphanage being told his parents had been involved in a tragic accident.

An attack force of Cylons had penetrated their planetary defenses. His parents had been in the heart of the city when the task force had started strafing runs. They were among thousands who had been killed in the bedlam that ensued.

Ten yahrens old, and his whole world had turned upside down. Then they told him the good news.

Apparently, his mother had had an older brother. Ortega had never met his uncle, and had rarely heard his mother discuss him, but since he was the child's only surviving relative, the over-burdened system had regulated that Ophidian would assume his care.

At the time, it had filled the young boy with a sense of hope that he would not be staying at the out-dated building of disrepair that was filled with children of all ages; most of them crying for recently deceased family members. He had gone from being the golden child, central to his parents' universe, to merely being one of a hundred faces, all of which were vying for food, shelter, and a little affection. He had waited anxiously for his uncle to come claim him, crying himself to sleep night after night, and cursing his parents for leaving him.

Three long sectars later, Ophidian had finally shown up escorted by Ministry workers. Ortega's meager belongings were packed up and the child was shown into an office to meet his new guardian. He recalled wanting to run the other way.

His uncle had stared at him with dislike and resentment that was so evident, it made the child start to whimper as he was pushed towards Ophidian. Ortega felt his arm grasped in an iron grip, and struggled to keep up as Ophidian dragged him out of the orphanage and towards the nearest transport station.

That was relatively reflective of his next seven yahrens. Ophidian was an unhappy, unhealthy individual who felt that life owed him something. When that something arrived in the form of his whore-of-a-sister's ten-yahren-old boy, the man was less than impressed. At least until he found out there was a small inheritance and trust fund accompanying his nephew.

At that discovery, he decided to pursue legal guardianship for the boy to ease his own ongoing monetary problems from his inability to maintain a steady state of employment. Oh, and of course, out of a sense of duty to his family, each and every one of them deceased, except the boy.

Ortega became accustomed to frequently changing schools, housing and towns. His uncle's supervisors were not impressed with an employee who was unable to attend work because of his ill health, or because of an empty liquor bottle. He was always on the lookout for a better 'situation', usually because he was fired from the previous one.

Ophidian also had a temper like a starving lupus about to lose its next meal. The young Ortega quickly learned to avoid annoying the man. That translated into staying quiet and absent, especially when his uncle was deep in his bottle. Usually, transgressions would result in Ophidian backhanding the child. After all, it was his duty to attend to the child's manners, morals and upbringing in the only way he knew how; corporal punishment.

Ortega recalled having mixed feelings when, at the age of seventeen, his uncle had told him that he would be going back into the care of the Children's Welfare Ministry. Ophidian was scheduled for major surgery and a prolonged rehabilitation period would be required. His physician had prescribed rest, relaxation, and as little stress as possible for his patient. By this time, Ortega was no longer afraid of or intimidated by his uncle. In fact, he had finally put an end to his uncle's physical abuse by hitting him back so hard that he knocked the man down a short flight of stairs. Then his uncle proceeded to use threats about withholding cubits and refusing to sign the paperwork that would enable the young man to get into the Caprica City Academy while still a minor, to keep his nephew in line. Whatever it took to achieve the end he desired, Ophidian would do it.

A lesson well learned.

Ortega could still envision the Caprica City Children's Home in his mind's eye. He remembered being abandoned in the Director's office by Ophidian and reminded by his uncle he would be back to retrieve him in three sectars, after his rehabilitation was completed. For some reason, the time period gave him an uneasy feeling.

His uncle had assured him the Children's Home was accessible to the Spectrum Community Secondary School, which featured an academic program that would assist the senior to prepare for his first yahren at the Caprica City Academy, providing he was accepted.

That had been the ultimate reason he had acceded to stay. As much as he hated the thought of returning to an orphanage, if it would get him a step closer to the Academy, he would tolerate it. He tried to tell himself it would be much like his future life in the military. Sharing space with strangers.

His first day back at the orphanage had been almost as tough as the one seven yahrens before. Oh, he had moved frequently enough that trying to blend in to a new group of kids wasn't anything new. He usually just told a few tall tales to get their attention and respect, knowing before long Ophidian would screw up another job and they would be on their way again.

Lying had become second nature to him, born out of a life of humiliation and deceit. He had become quite proficient at scamming his way through life. No one his age could do it better. At least that was what he had thought until he came across Starbuck.

Ortega met Starbuck within his first centar at the Caprica City Children's Home. He had barely unpacked his clothes and settled onto his bunk, shuffling his deck of cards, when the blond-haired, blue-eyed kid had wandered over to him.

"You play cards?" the wide-eyed kid had asked him.

"Yeah. A bit." Ortega had replied, sizing up the other teen. He looked almost Ortega's age, or at least not far behind him.

"Can you teach me?" He asked hesitantly, looking around wearily for any signs of a care worker.

"Sure." _Sucker._ By the end of the next centar, Ortega had convinced the kid he was ready to play for real, which meant a wager was necessary. Starbuck had caught on to the rudiments of the game fairly quickly, he just didn't have any luck or killer instinct. It would be a slaughter.

Another centar later, Ortega knew he'd been had. Oh, Starbuck had tried to keep up the wide-eyed, innocent affectation for a while, but by the time a small crowd had gathered, the naïve kid had disappeared. In his place was a wisecracking, smart-astrum, streetwise teen that was holding most of Ortega's cubits.

Ortega hated him.

To make matters worse, Starbuck could see right through his lies. Ortega told the other kids that his uncle was a Captain in the fleet and was working behind enemy lines, finding it necessary to leave his beloved nephew in Ministry care for fear that he wouldn't return from his dangerous mission. Of course, Ortega couldn't discuss the mission, but his tale of intrigue had tongues wagging about him all over the orphanage and made him the most talked about teenager in the home.

The entire time, Starbuck's blue eyes mocked him, making him increasingly uncomfortable as he spun his tale, recreating Ophidian as the man he had always prayed for in a guardian. While the other kids drilled him relentlessly seeking classified information, Starbuck chuckled to himself in the corner.

"What's so funny?" Ortega demanded.

"That's the biggest load of felgercarb I've ever heard. Have you ever thought of taking up creative writing? You have a great imagination." Starbuck replied with a wide grin.

Oh, and that was just day one.

Sectars went by as his dislike for Starbuck grew. The two teens could turn anything into a competition. School, girls, gambling, witticisms, insults, scams, pranks; everything was just another opportunity to outdo the other.

Ortega's animosity reached a high point the day when one of the other kids had asked him when his grossly overdue uncle would be coming back to get him. It had been almost six sectars since Ophidian had dropped him off. He had just returned to the dormitory from the director's office where he had been informed yet again, that his uncle had not fully recovered and would require a further six sectons before being reassessed for the awesome responsibility of caring for his teenage nephew.

Ortega had begun to suspect his only living relative had dumped him when Starbuck had jumped in with one of his snide comments.

"Frack, I thought it was tough NOT having family. But with family like yours, who'd want them?" Starbuck shook his head, looking thoughtful. It was a half-micron later that Ortega punched him.

A sudden rise in noise level startled Ortega from his musings of his early life. He looked around the commissary. Nothing unusual was happening. A slow smile spread across his features. Well, other than the fact that Starbuck would be getting expelled soon. Things were looking up.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Shuttlecraft CA 135. She must be the single most utilized transport at the Academy, Apollo thought as he watched the cadets unload from her. He had been trying to board her off and on for a couple of centars. He checked his chronometer. The day was flying by, and he still hadn't made it back to Starbuck yet. Frack. Maybe he should have conscripted Dorado's assistance.

No, it was best to keep it as quiet as possible, according to his criminal code professor. Hegen had made a few suggestions to the cadet after Apollo had relayed as much of the story as he could share. The man had given him some ideas about stalling for time, until Hegen could look into legal alternatives to the appointed Captain Corpeus. He too was disgusted and outraged at Corpeus' treatment of Starbuck.

However, that meeting had taken longer than the Phoenix leader had anticipated. While Professor Hegen was a sharp and shrewd educator, he was also a little long-winded, citing two or three examples for just about every point he made from cases recorded throughout history.

Apollo had begun to shift anxiously from foot to foot as he attempted to hurry the man along in his explanations. He hoped to God that Starbuck would stick by his initial decision to wait for word from him before doing anything. That was one of his friend's idiosyncrasies though; he was a trifle unpredictable.

Reasonably certain the shuttle was now empty, he quickly boarded her. A quick glance reassured him he was the only occupant. He strode to the flight deck and sat in the pilot's seat, hastily accessing the flight records. The digital readouts were routinely used to review training flights, but in this case, he hoped it would tell him exactly what part of Mazuria Diallo, Brand and company had spent the remainder of the day in while waiting for maneuvers to be completed.

If Starbuck was right about the new dual-setting blasters going straight to Chobatar rebels instead of the Academy's cadets, the shuttle would have needed to land somewhat close by the site of rebel conflict that Dorado and Kardon's teams had encountered. Otherwise, a blaster wouldn't have shown up so quickly in Chobatar hands.

He punched in a few commands, narrowing his search further. His eyes narrowed as the data appeared. He let out a puff of triumph and began downloading the information onto his own datapad. They had been only a kilometron away from Starbuck's position when they had made their rendezvous, presumably at 0800 centars. Everything was falling into place.

Apollo quickly headed towards the supplies office. One more stop before he made it back to Starbuck. He had to assume that by this point his friend would either be in the brig, or on his way.

_The best way to sneak into a place is to appear as though you belong there._ Skullduggery 101, according to the master, Cadet Starbuck. Apollo smiled, his friend's words coming back to him, as he stood in front of the acquisitions office.

Now he was wishing Starbuck had been a bit more specific, but then his friend had a certain panache for playing it by ear. _Strategy is fine, Apollo, but more often than not you end up improvising anyway._

Well, he could stand there all day thinking about the best way to access the computer files, but that wouldn't get him any closer to finding out what was behind the door. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and walked through the door.

The acquisitions officer behind the desk looked up from his workstation, where he was busily entering data on his computer. "Yes?" he asked briskly, running a hand wearily back through his dark blond hair, sprinkled with a bit of grey.

"Lieutenant Passel, I just need to check on a shipment of blasters that we've been expecting, sir. We're getting ready to organize the training sessions, you see." Apollo told him concisely as he stood at attention. He nodded towards the other station. "I can check into it myself, sir. You look to be up to your eyeballs in work already."

"Cadet . . . Apollo. At ease. You're the Phoenix leader, right?" Lieutenant Passel asked, looking over the cadet and then his mountain of work.

"Yes, sir." Apollo nodded, shifting his position.

Passel nodded. "I'd appreciate that. Good practice for you anyhow. A huge shipment just came in a couple of days ago. Your blasters may be sitting in storage. Let me know if you need any help." He smiled an easy grin.

"Thank you, sir." Apollo smiled in return and quickly moved towards the other workstation. Well, that had been easier than he had thought.

He sat down and started to pour through the list of supplies that had been entered as being received. Colonial laser blasters were there, but according to the registration number, they were the traditional model; no stun setting. _Frack._

Well, he could compare it to the transport invoice, if he could find that. Hmm. Would they even have record of it? Lords, this is the military, there's practically a record for every thought, never mind every transaction.

He looked over his shoulder at Passel. The man was still typing steadily, entering his data. "Question?" the lieutenant asked, sitting back and massaging the kinks in his neck with one hand.

"Transport invoices. Do we keep the records?"

"Lords, kid, we keep everything." He got out of his chair and moved behind Apollo, reaching both arms around the cadet and typing in various commands. Apollo smirked as he relived any number of times his parents had done the same thing, reaching around him to illustrate or teach him something. He shrugged down in his chair, trying to give the lieutenant more room.

"Sorry. I've got kids." Passel muttered with a faint snort as he brought up the transport invoice that coincided with the supply list Apollo had on screen.

"It's all right, sir. I have parents." Apollo smiled and he followed the list as it scrolled down to the blasters.

"There you go." Passel pointed to the screen. "Hey, that's wrong though. The registration numbers don't coincide." He punched in more commands.

Apollo followed the frequent screen changes, realizing that the lieutenant did this for a living, and that was why he felt so totally inadequate. He watched the acquisitions officer bring up the description of each registered weapon. The dual-setting blaster had been shipped, but according to the records, it had not arrived.

"Frack. That's weird. I wonder if it's just a mistake." Passel mused aloud. He stood up, and stepped back from the cadet.

"Uh, does it say where they're located, sir?" Apollo asked. "I could just go take a look and find out if it's an error. If those are the new blasters, I need to get them charged and ready for training anyway." He suggested, stalling for time. He hadn't counted on someone else finding and then reacting to the incriminating information.

"Yeah. That would be easier than me filing another report on discrepancies that no one will get to for a couple sectars. Mind you, I should really send this directly to the Colonel." He leaned back down to the terminal, smiling in amusement as Apollo purposely moved out of his way.

"Diallo?" Apollo asked automatically as he stood up.

"Yeah." Passel's fingers flew over the keys. "Warehouse 'G'. If you have a datapad, I'll transfer the registration number. Then just check with Kuche when you get there. If anyone can find it, he can."

Apollo handed over his datapad to the lieutenant. "Thanks a lot. I'll get back to you on whether or not you have to submit that report, sir." He hoped the man would delay his report to Diallo. He already knew the weapons weren't in the warehouse; he needn't go there. Still, thank the Lords, it was one more piece of evidence that could clear Starbuck.

"Sure, kid. That would be great." Passel handed the datapad back and watched the young, fresh-faced cadet hurry away. All the same, this was a conspicuous discrepancy. Diallo would have his hide if there really was something wrong and he delayed reporting it. He quickly typed up his report and sent it to the colonel, marking it 'urgent'.

-----------

"I don't know quite how to say this. All of my life I've looked up to you. Admired you. Respected you. The Colonel. Celebrated war hero, not to mention a family man who had the guts to accept a posting planetside to stay near his wife and children when mother issued that ultimatum. I know how hard that was on you. I know you wanted to be back on that Battlestar and in the middle of the action. I know how close you came to choosing your career over your family. How close you came to leaving mother and all of us. I remember it all." Imara stared into those piercing blue eyes that she knew so well.

"No, let me finish. You see, it wasn't just Starbuck who was in the hangar that night. I was with him. I saw what he saw, heard what he heard. I know you set him up. You and Brand." She paused to collect her thoughts. "It's the first time I've ever known you to take the coward's way out."

"I don't pretend to understand what drove you to start selling Academy blasters to the Mazurians or Chobatars. I'm not even sure I want to hear the excuses. The fact is you got caught. Now, instead of facing the music, the way you've always told me I would have to when I made a mistake, you're throwing away the career of one of the most promising young pilots the Academy has."

"Oh, did I mention I love him?" Her voice broke as a runaway tear trailed down her cheek. "No, I can see I didn't." She sucked in a deep breath, steadying herself. "So it's damned complicated for me. Who do I give up? My father? Or my lover?"

Imara slammed the picture of her father down face first, hearing the satisfying crunch of the glass. _Nice speech, Imara. Now, can you do it for real? Can you really face your father? _

She gazed out the window of her dorm and her eyes settled on the sight of two security officers escorting a young man in loose fitting scrubs towards the brig. Starbuck's head was held high, even as Sergeant Brand leaned forward and unnecessarily gave him a shove to hurry him along. She bit her lip as she saw Starbuck whirl around and come nose to nose with the man, obviously having words with him. Brand grabbed the front of the cadet's shirt with both hands, responding aggressively, the cadet unable to do much about it with his arms secured behind his back.

She had to do something and she had to do it before Brand had absolute control of Starbuck in the brig. She found the very idea unsettling, to say the least. She squared her shoulders and grabbed her jacket. Imara had to face Diallo. She was about to find out exactly how good that speech was that she had prepared.

----------

Lords, Starbuck felt like a malignant boil on the hide of humanity, as Brand and Keane pushed him along. That was the joke of it all, of course. He felt guilty and he wasn't.

He was just a victim. _NO! You're not a victim. Victims are helpless. There's no fracking way you're going to just lie down like carrion, watching the scavengers circle above you._

That attitude was exactly why he found himself eye to eye with Brand after one more aggressive shove forward, giving as good as he was getting . . . at least verbally.

"You're going down, Cadet! You only have another day, and then you're going to be out of here! In the meantime, I'm going to take _extra_ special care of you in the brig." Brand whispered forebodingly, waiting for the young man to realize his predicament and cower before him.

"Frack that, Brand." Starbuck growled. "It's _you_ who is going down. There's no fracking way in Hades that you're going to get away with selling Academy arms to guerillas." He raised his voice, as his anger gave him courage. "You think that getting rid of me is going to make the problem go away. Wrong, pal. The problem started with you and it will end with your own tribunal."

A small spark of fear shot through Brand, as he listened to the cadet confirm what he knew all along. Starbuck _was_ the person in the hangar that night. _Of all the . . ._** the sergeant felt a mounting pressure at the base of his skull, an impending headache. One with which he was all too familiar lately, it seemed.**

"You don't have any proof of that. One cadet's word is meaningless. Especially when he's about to be expelled for drug use." Brand snapped back, tightening his grip on Starbuck's tunic, instead of plowing his fist into the young man's gut, as he was naturally inclined to do_. No, not here. Not now._ No one was close enough to hear them, except Keane, and he wouldn't be a problem. Brand would have plenty of opportunity to teach Starbuck a few lessons later. It would make that five kilometron run seem like a turn around a dance floor with a beautiful woman. **The sergeant held onto that thought as the throbbing in his skull stabbed at his nerves. He sucked in a deep breath and tried to ignore the growing **_need_**as his fingers trembled slightly.**

"Mong!" Starbuck snarled, his fury making him reckless. It was a characteristic that had brought him a fair amount of trouble in his life. "You left more loose ends than a bargain basement tailor. That's the problem with guys like you taking up a life of crime; you've got the IQ of a torque wrench."

Brand abruptly shoved Starbuck hard, propelling him backwards. The sergeant waited for the cadet to crash to the ground and land in the muck behind him. Maddeningly though, he regained his balance with apparent ease, standing and facing Brand as though they were two ancient warriors preparing to duel. Of course, Starbuck's restraints effectively ruined that mental image . . .

"Brand . . . " Keane spoke warningly as he noticed several cadets heading their way on the run. Phoenix Squadron.

Brand stared with fury at the cadet, **his body shaking as he inhaled deeply**_Frak and mong!_ _If he could just . . ._ Lords, he could use a little hit right now. He ground his teeth together and curled his lip. No, it could wait._ Not on duty, Sergeant._ The coca didn't control him. He refused to let that happen. He sucked deep breaths through his teeth, hearing the comforting _hiss_ it made. Like air being released from a balloon, he tried to imagine his tension leaving his body. Tried to ignore the** two bulges** secreted in the lining of his jacket. _Get it together, Brand_**_Now._****The coca didn't control him. He refused to let that happen. **

"Starbuck! Are you okay? What 's going on here?" Dorado ran to his friend, grabbing him by the shoulders. It had looked like Brand was going to start kicking the felger out of the cadet. Ironically enough though, Starbuck looked just as furious as the sergeant.

Starbuck nodded briefly, regaining control of his emotions. "Quick, Dorado. My right front pants pocket. Give it to Apollo." He spoke quietly in the cadet's ear.

Dorado hesitated, instinctively looking around. The other cadets had formed a barricade between the security men and their detainee. "This better not be a bad joke, Bucko . . . " he warned his friend as he slipped his hand inside the pocket. He felt a small cylinder inside and pulled it out, giving it a quick shake. The missing tokens.

"I lifted them from Ortega in the ravine. I forgot all about them." Starbuck told him, half-listening to Brand ordering his friends to stand aside. "They were in my jacket."

"And Brand claimed to search you thoroughly to find the coca." Dorado summarized.

"Exactly." Starbuck smiled, not sure how much Apollo had told the other cadet.

"Nice job, fingers." Dorado grinned.

"Have you seen Apollo?" Starbuck asked, knowing he didn't have much longer. Tani, of all people, was putting up a stink about the sergeant's rough treatment of her squadron mate.

"Yeah. He said he had another idea about getting some more conclusive evidence. Hang in there, buddy. If he wasn't such a damn fine pilot, I'd say he could go on to specialize as a protector. Did your protector come back?"

"No. I don't quite know what to do about him." Starbuck muttered in uncertainty. He had been dreading the moment where he would have to face Corpeus again. Really, he would have liked to have known what Apollo had come up with before that. Now he wasn't even sure his squadron leader would be able to get into the brig to see him.

"It will come to you. Work the usual Starbuck charm on him. Frazzle him with felgercarb."

"Yeah, right. Remember, he's counsel. That's what he does for a living. Did Apollo get any help from Ortega?" Starbuck wasn't sure what to expect from the Stamphalian cadet. Sure, they had had a few issues over the yahrens, but he did save Ortega's astrum, not only coming to their rescue with the Chobatar rebels, but also practically carrying him out of the ravine. Not to mention that amazing medical intervention he had initiated with the splint for the cadet's knee.

"No." Dorado answered in disgust, not understanding Ortega's burning hatred of his friend. Purple hair . . . or even a purple scalp, were hardly reasons to let Starbuck get expelled.

Starbuck sighed. It was about what he had expected. The trouble was Ortega was the only other person who had seen the dual-action blaster that the Chobatars were carrying. Perhaps the other cadets actually seeing the stun setting in action when it hit Orcus would be enough.

"Stand down now! Or you'll all be on report!" Brand bellowed at the cadets, absolutely stunned at their rebellion and misconduct. If it wasn't for the unusual situation**the pounding at the base of his skull, and a growing **_need_** that was quickly becoming hard to ignore . . .**

"It's all right, gang." Starbuck spoke up, as his friends turned towards him and Dorado. "No need for that. I'm fine." He saw their worried glances. "Really. This will all be sorted out soon, and I'll be joining you for that secton-end pass."

Dorado held the tylinium cylinder up for them to see. Starbuck wouldn't have mentioned it in front of Brand if he didn't want the sergeant to see it. "Look what Starbuck got back from the Stamphalians." He carefully watched Brand for his reaction as he listened to the cheers of surprise from his squadron mates.

_More loose ends than . . . _Brand could feel the blood drain from his face, but other than that, kept himself under rigid control. His face was a blank mask . . . or so he thought. He hadn't searched the cadet when he planted the coca. He also failed to search Starbuck when they left the infirmary. Well, he wouldn't make that mistake again. He'd search every centimetron of the guttersnipe when he got him into the brig. Starbuck would know that he'd crossed the wrong man. _Sweet Lords of Kobol, I just need a little hit first, to settle my nerves. Just a little one._


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Apollo strode towards Commander Orrick's office, wondering what the man would want with him. He had headed directly to the infirmary after leaving the supply office, only to find out that Starbuck had been discharged to the brig merely centons before. He was about to follow his friend when a med tech had informed him he had been summoned to the Commander's office. ASAP.

Apollo had only been in the Commander's office a couple times before. The man had received all four squadron leaders at the beginning of the yahren, congratulating them and giving them a traditional speech which was meant to inspire them and impress upon them their challenges and accomplishments.

That was really the last time Apollo had seen him. Perhaps the rumours were true. Maybe Orrick was content to sit back as some kind of figurehead and let Colonel Diallo run things. He snorted. That was probably why the executive officer was able to sells arms to the Chobatars.

He entered the reception room, which was a bit more plush than he was accustomed to in a military setting. Rich woods and colours that hadn't been there on his previous visit, reminded him of an office of a wealthy businessman rather than that of the Academy's Commanding Officer.

"Are you Cadet Apollo?" an attractive young woman sitting behind a dark, cherry desk asked him as she brushed her auburn hair back from her face.

"Yes, I am." Apollo replied as he watched her manicured nails press an intercom and notify Orrick of his presence.

"You can go in," she smiled pleasantly at him.

"Thank you." He nodded. She hadn't been there the last time either. Quite a few improvements in the Commander's office. He stepped through the door to find Commander Orrick sitting behind his desk engaged in conversation, a glass of ambrosa in his hand, his cane at his side.

"Ah, Cadet Apollo. You appear to be a difficult young man to track down." Orrick nodded at him curtly and then smiled as he watched the cadet's eyes fall on his visitor.

"Father!" Apollo exclaimed as his body abandoned any pretense of standing at attention in front of the men.

Commander Adama rose from his armchair, placing his ambrosa on Orrick's desk. "Apollo. You look well." He crossed the couple metrons between them with a broad smile and lightly embraced his son.

"Father, I wasn't expecting you for centars. " Apollo blethered in surprise as he looked over his father's shoulder at the chrono on the wall.

"I know. I'm a bit early. I took advantage of the fact to stop in on my old classmate." Adama smiled warmly at Orrick as he placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "Thank you for your hospitality, old friend."

"My immense pleasure, Adama. Make yourself at home while you're here. You'll find the old place hasn't changed that much since we were cadets." Orrick rose stiffly from his chair onto his prosthetic leg, using his ever-present cane for support. He gripped Adama's arm.

Adama smiled looking around at the opulent office. "That would be surprising, indeed." He returned a hand to his son's shoulder, guiding him towards the door.

"Other than his office, it probably hasn't." Apollo told Adama with a smile as they left the reception office. "At least, the barracks are the same."

"It's supposed to build character." Adama replied with a smile, as he looked over his firstborn. He was proud of the boy. Top of his class and flight leader of the esteemed Phoenix Squadron, like his father before him. Of course, Apollo was a serious, studious, focused young man and didn't have underclassmen like Cain trying to lead him astray. Ah, those were the days.

"Your mother sends her love. She has every intention of cooking us a meal to remember tonight. All of my favourites, oh, and maybe one or two of yours." Adama's eyes twinkled at the thought of the feast and the family reunion he was intent on pulling together, if only for one evening. "I have Commander Orrick's permission to conscript your services and assign you to Siress Ila until curfew." He grinned at his son. "Roast bovine carving begins promptly at 1830 centars."

Apollo could feel the grin slip from his face, as he listened to his father's words. An image of Starbuck in the brig had him stopping in his tracks as his father headed towards the main gate. "Father, wait. I can't."

"Can't?" Adama paused, turning back to him. "Why ever not?"

He had half expected his father to just demand he accompany him. Apollo took a deep breath as he started to explain. "One of my friends is in the brig. He's been accused of trafficking drugs." He watched his father's generous eyebrows shoot skyward. "Wrongfully," he added, pausing for his father's reaction. An eyebrow rose slightly, waiting. "It's really complicated, but suffice it to say, his protector would rather see him expelled than exonerated."

"And you need to be there . . . why?" Adama asked evenly, noting the tension in his son. Apollo was in full Ila-mode. He was just like his mother when he committed himself to something. He saw it through, not veering from his path until he was done.

"I've been checking out his story and getting some evidence together." He watched Adama paying rapt attention to him, wondering fleetingly when his father had ceased to treat him like a child. "He's been set up . . . by an officer . . . " Again he assessed the Commander's reaction to the story. He knew his father's reactions so well, and could recognize the slight wrinkling around his eyes that indicated doubt.

"An officer, Apollo . . . " Adama hesitated as his eldest son started to flush angrily.

"It started out to look like the officer was upset that the cadet was dating his daughter." Apollo determinedly carried on. "Then Starbuck overheard something that led him to believe the Colonel was smuggling arms to Chobatar rebels." He ignored Adama's impatient frown. "We did an exercise in Mazuria yesterday and one of the new dual-setting lasers was found in Chobatar hands." Adama's expression changed from that of impatient disbelief to one of abrupt surprise. "Those guns were slated to arrive at the Academy. Acquisitions has a record of them being sent, but not delivered."

"Starbuck overheard the colonel talking about a rendezvous for 0800 yesterday morning. Coincidentally, he came across some rebels yesterday afternoon carrying those blasters. Unfortunately, in the course of the exercises he was injured and by the time he arrived back at the Academy, he was being detained for trafficking and assaulting Colonel Diallo. This despite the fact that he had a concussion and was half- conscious and disoriented when he was examined by the med tech, _before_ he allegedly attacked the Colonel." Apollo took a well-deserved breath.

"Apollo!"

Apollo turned to see Dorado running towards him. The cadet grabbed his flight leader's arm as he came to a stop, not even contemplating the older man at Apollo's side.

"Starbuck gave me these for you." He handed over the tokens. "This proves Brand didn't really search him like he claimed!" Dorado puffed, suddenly paling and coming to attention when he realized the identity of the man his friend was with. "Sir!"

"At ease, son." Adama nodded as the bizarre tale continued to unwind.

Dorado nodded respectfully in return, before returning his attention to Apollo. "He's in the brig. That scum sucker of a protector hasn't even been back to see him yet." The young man had the presence of mind to look mildly chagrined as he saw Adama fold his arms. "Uh, pardon the language, sir."

Apollo let out a deep breath. "Thanks, Dorado. I'll take it from here."

Dorado nodded reluctantly, hoping that meant that Apollo had the assistance of his esteemed father. "Let us know what happens."

"I will." _If I can_. He watched Dorado walking back towards the barracks, dragging his feet.

"This _Starbuck_." Adama put a hand on his son's arm. "I think your mother's told me a few stories about him." He mentioned tentatively as he turned his son towards the brig, walking along side.

"I'll bet she has." Apollo smiled.

----------

_Back in the fracking brig._ Starbuck was aware of Brand's hand gripping his arm tightly as they paused at the door. Brand slowly keyed in his entry code, his hands visibly shaking, and the heavy door _clicked_ in response. The sergeant slammed the door open, the force of it hitting the wall loudly. Starbuck swallowed nervously as he looked sidelong at the enlisted man.

Brand was perspiring. His face was screwed up, whether in pain or anger, the cadet wasn't sure. He kind of hoped it was pain. Starbuck had seen an angry Brand already, and he wasn't looking forward to a recurrence. Especially while his arms were restrained behind his back.

"Take him to cell 'g'. Leave him restrained though. I want to search him personally before we take the shackles off." Brand directed Keane. He pushed the cadet roughly ahead of him, heading for his office.

"I can search him." Keane offered, not understanding why Brand was taking it upon himself. It was unlikely the cadet was carrying anything of importance.

Brand whirled around, his face red with anger. "I said I'd do it! Are you deaf or just plain stupid?" He hollered.

Keane reflexively took a step back. "Okay, okay. Fine." He muttered in annoyance. The sergeant's mood swings were becoming a problem. It was time to think about transferring out of security. He caught up to the cadet and gripped his arm. "Let's go."

Starbuck was beginning to feel like he had battle cruisers flying around his stomach. Unease filled him as he proceeded down the corridor until they reached the cellblock. Once again he waited while Keane entered the access code.

At least Keane wasn't trying to destroy the wall when he opened the door. At that moment he felt something akin to affection for the man. Well, maybe _affection_ was too strong a word. Starbuck started walking, not waiting for the usual shove forward. Within a micron, he felt Keane's hand back on his arm, guiding him down the row of cells. Every last one was empty.

"Home sweet home." Keane muttered cheerfully, as he swiped his security card across the narrow beam of light, the cell opening. The cadet stepped inside, avoiding any need for encouragement. "Brand will be with you in a centon. Sit tight."

"Yeah, right. Thanks a lot."

"What? No smart-astrum remarks this time? Are you losing your edge, Starbuck?" Keane taunted him as he walked back to the controlled entrance.

"It's not my edge I'm worried about." Starbuck murmured as he heard the _click_ of the door once again. He tested his restraints for about the tenth time, hating the sense of helplessness. Slowly, he turned in a circle, his eyes taking in everything in the small room. A cot with one pillow and blanket. A turbo flush with three wipes. A sink with a small bar of soap. That was it.

He sighed as he put together a semblance of a plan. Get the bar of soap wet and strategically place it on the floor. Brand enters, slips on the soap, hitting his head on the turbo flush. Brilliant. _Yeah right, Bucko._

The click from the door alerted him to Brand's entry. The clap of Colonial boots coming down the hall had him desperately looking the room over once again. _Frack._ He just had a bad feeling about this.

"Settling in?" Brand paused in front of the cell. He appeared calm and steady as he watched the cadet pace nervously before him. He opened the cell door, entering, and then closed it again.

Starbuck drew in a breath and backed up. "Uh, look Brand, my protector should be along any micron now . . . "

"Turn around." Brand barked in his drill sergeant voice.

"Uh . . . " The last thing he wanted to do was turn his back on that maniac. Starbuck was caught between his survival instinct and the knowledge that ignoring the sergeant's orders would infuriate him further. He took another step back, feeling the cold, hard wall behind him.

Brand was on him in an instant, grabbing him by the arms with a strength that astounded the cadet and slamming him face first into the wall. "I said, turn around!"

Stars appeared before his eyes, as Starbuck's head bounced off the concrete. _Oh, not again. _He felt Brand steady him as his knees started to buckle.

"Stand straight, cadet!" Brand bellowed in his ear.

The stars cleared to reveal a dented grey wall. It made Starbuck wonder briefly if his head had made the dent. He was acutely aware of Brand's breath on the back of his neck. It was hot and oppressive. He could feel something warm trickling down his forehead.

"Now, I'm going to search you. If you move so much as a muscle, I'll make you regret it. Understand?" He growled, waiting for a response. He didn't get one. "Do you understand, cadet?" he yelled, leaning on the cadet and pressing him into the wall once again.

"Yes, sir." Starbuck replied, his heart pounding as he wondered where this was going. Brand had actually seemed more agitated before he went to his office. But this Brand, cold and controlled, scared him even more.

Brand gripped Starbuck's hair, running his other hand through it roughly. This wasn't so much an exercise in searching as it was a chance to humiliate the young man, and let him know he was going to be subjugated to whatever it was Brand intended to do. A smile spread across his face at the number of possibilities.

"What the frack are you . . . " Starbuck hissed as his head was yanked painfully back.

A punch to his right kidney was Brand's reply. He leaned on the cadet again, stopping the downward slump to the floor. "Did I mention how many muscles it takes to move your mouth?" He growled in Starbuck's ear, as he pulled him back to his feet. "Now shut your festering gob, cadet!"

Starbuck shuddered as pain and fear wracked his body. He struggled to catch his breath as he felt Brand's hands start to frisk him again, this time running across his chest and down his sides. He had been searched before, but always impersonally and quickly, the procedure as distasteful to the security officer as it was to the detainee. This time it was different. Brand was taking his time, purposely making him uncomfortable. Trying to intimidate him. _It was fracking well working! _He bit his lip, suppressing a remark.

"Just what in the name of Kobol is going on here?" A powerful voice roared from behind them. "Open this cell NOW!"

Starbuck heard the_ hiss _of the doors sliding open, even as Brand's weight disappeared from his back. In a micron, supportive hands had gripped his shoulders, turning him around. He let out a breath in relief. Apollo.

"I was searching him, sir." Brand's voice was clipped, as he stood at attention in front of Commander Adama.

"Searching him? That doesn't explain the blood, Sergeant." Adama snapped as he took in the pale countenance of the shaken cadet, arms restrained behind him. _What in Hades was going on?_

"He's a drug user, sir. I was making sure he was clean before I released him. I don't want any drugs in here, sir."

"I'm NOT a fracking drug user!" Starbuck snarled, lunging towards Brand. Apollo's hands held him in place and he could hear the flight leader muttering something to him which he didn't quite catch.

Adama's eyes shifted to the cadet, narrowing ever so slightly. He had recovered from his predicament quickly, and looked like he was ready to go a round with the sergeant. Bound or not. "Sergeant, I find your treatment of this cadet inappropriate and unprofessional. I want a full report on your commanding officer's desk in one centar. Furthermore, until an investigation of this incident is completed, you are relieved of duty in the brig. You're dismissed."

"Yes, sir." Brand replied, as he swallowed down his anger. His eyes flickered over Keane who had let them in the cellblock, and who now stood quietly in the corridor. He needed to talk to Diallo, but first, he needed to get home and . . . unwind. He brushed past Keane, giving him a little shove on his way out of the brig.

"Remove the restraints." Adama ordered Keane. The security officer nodded and promptly did the Commander's bidding.

"Are you okay?" Apollo asked Starbuck as he watched him rub his wrists.

"Yeah, but that was damned good timing, buddy." Starbuck told him, as he gazed at the familiar features of the man in front of him. He finally realized he was standing in front of greatness. "Holy Lords . . . " he muttered as he gaped at Adama.

"Not quite." Adama responded with a slight smile. To Keane he directed, "Bring a med kit."

"Starbuck, this is my father, Commander Adama." Apollo introduced them.

"Wow." Starbuck muttered, suddenly short on words. Not exactly the most auspicious of occasions under which to meet the man.

"What happened here, Starbuck?" Adama asked softly.

Starbuck glanced at Apollo. "How much . . . ?"

"I've filled him in on a lot of it, but not everything. Didn't really have time." Apollo told him as he watched Starbuck wipe at the trail of blood on his forehead and then palpate the lump that was rising there. He met his father's concerned gaze.

"Perhaps you should tell me everything. From the beginning." Adama suggested. As unlikely as it seemed, the two had stumbled into something formidable. And if his behavior was any indication, Sergeant Brand was involved up to his barbaric brow.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Colonel Diallo shook his head as he read Lieutenant Passel's urgent report. _How did it all fall apart so quickly?_ He obviously wasn't cut out for a life of crime. He rubbed a hand briskly through his short, steely grey hair, as he once again read through Dr. Alpheus' medical report, his feet up on his desk.

_Note: there was no trace of narcotics in the cadet's bloodstream or evidence of sustained usage. Routine urine and blood screens have been consistently negative for two-and-a-half yahrens._

He eyes fell on the holoptic of his wife that he kept on his desk. Even if he lost everything, it would still be worth it. _Lanelle. _He gripped the likeness of his wife and closed his eyes.

Corpeus had told him the cadet didn't exactly jump at the proposed agreement. Apparently, the kid had principles. He refused to cut a deal when he was innocent of all charges. Then Adama's son had shown up. Diallo blew out a slow, deep breath.

After all the plans he had made, the careful preparation, the tension, the anxiety, the cold-gripping fear in his gut every time he completed a transfer of goods, he simply hadn't expected to get caught.

One little slip. Some frisky Academy yahoo out for some romance. With his own daughter, he recalled as he shook his head in bemusement.

When it came down to it, it was some nobody-cadet or him. Oh, sure it might be a bit black and white, but the kid was young and could find something else to do. It's not like Academy life was the be-all or end-all in career choices. That was for damn sure.

"Colonel."

Diallo's head snapped up at the unexpected voice. He chided himself on losing concentration and awareness of his environment, even as he registered his daughter standing before him in the doorway of his office. "Cadet."

Imara took the two steps that were necessary to bring her into his office. "We need to talk."

She perched on the edge of his desk, the way she had done a hundred times before. Diallo could almost imagine her swinging her legs back and forth as she had done as a child. Her dark features and hair were so much like her mother's; it was almost difficult to look upon her without thinking of Lanelle. "About?"

"Starbuck." Imara returned evenly. "I know you're setting him up. I know Brand is in on it too." Despite her outward calm, she was shaking on the inside. This was it. She had to get him to back down. Starbuck's future was on the line.

Diallo just stared at her. Her eyes glared at him accusingly. His head shook slightly. He was so damned sure Starbuck had told him the truth. That Imara hadn't known. He had _wanted_ to believe it so badly . . .

"Say something." Imara choked out. Somehow, she still wanted him to deny it. Tell her it was all a misunderstanding. Instead, he looked at her so forlornly. A beaten man.

"You were there. With him." Diallo murmured, lowering his legs from his desk. He covered his face with a hand. Lords, he felt old all of a sudden.

"Yes! I was there!" Imara hissed, standing again as she swallowed the lump in her throat. "I heard you talking about your retirement. How could you do this to mother? Especially now?" A stray tear escaped and she wiped at it angrily.

"Imara, you don't understand . . . " Diallo began, looking up at his daughter.

"Of course, I don't understand! How could I? You're breaking the law, Colonel!" Her body began to tremble and she squeezed her hands into fists, trying to retain a grip on her emotions.

"I _did it_ for your mother!" Diallo barked, rising to his feet and facing her. He lowered his voice. "I . . . _had_ to."

"What the frack does that mean?" Imara snarled back at him.

"I would like to know as well." An authoritative voice demanded from the doorway.

Diallo and Imara turned together to see Adama and Apollo watching them.

"Oh, Lords," Diallo muttered as Commander Adama of the Battlestar Galactica and the Quorum of Twelve walked into his office, a witness to his downfall. For a brief moment he thought of fighting or running, but he knew there was no place to go. A strange calmness settled over him, like a man who had come to terms with his fate. He sat on the edge of his desk.

"Frack . . . " Imara added, any pretense of having a quiet, confidential discussion abruptly finished. She slumped down into her father's chair, dreading the next few moments. She wished she could just disappear. She closed her eyes tightly, placing a hand to her mouth, feeling the bile rise in her throat. Her courage, tenacity, and intent failed her in sight of her father's complete humiliation.

"What would drive a man such as yourself to sell Colonial weapons to Chobatar rebels?" Adama asked again.

Diallo sniffed humourlessly. "The cubits." He looked over to see Adama's hardened features studying him intently. A man of such power would never understand. "I needed the cubits."

"For what?" the words were torn from Imara's throat, as he admitted to his mercenary motivation.

"Your mother's treatments," he whispered.

"But . . . the Service covers that . . . doesn't it?" Imara stuttered as she looked at her father in horror with a dawning realization.

"Treatments?" Apollo asked quietly, looking from the Colonel to his daughter.

"My wife . . . has a brain tumour." Diallo told them hoarsely. It was still hard to say aloud. Even after several sectars of watching her suffer with headaches, confusion, a seizure disorder, and a slowly progressive paralysis of the right side of her body, he still found it hard to believe he couldn't save her. Lord knows he had tried. Hades, he could barely stand to look at her anymore, her deterioration caused him such pain.

"Your daughter is correct, Colonel. The Colonial Service certainly provides medical care in these circumstances. I'm afraid I don't understand." Adama probed gently.

"They waited too long!" Diallo hissed. "They told her the headaches were stress related." It had been a tumultuous time in their marriage. She had been so moody and difficult. Their relationship had always had its share of ups and downs with him being in the Service and away from home so much. Even he hadn't taking Lanelle seriously when she started taking to her bed with headaches. Her absence was a relief, compared to their constant fighting.

"By the time they agreed to send her to a specialist, the tumour had grown. When they finally diagnosed her, they couldn't operate. They said it would kill her. They gave her six sectars to live and started her on traditional therapies." Diallo covered his face with his hands; reliving the moment they had told him his wife was going to die. He had never felt more impotent in his life.

"But . . . the treatments . . . " Imara stood, pulling her father's hands from his face and exposing his naked grief. "They started helping . . . I don't understand." Her voice broke. Her dark eyes glistened with unshed tears as she searched his familiar features for more information.

"The treatments are purely experimental, Imara." He cleared his throat as he struggled to say the words. "They aren't covered by my medical plan." Diallo's eyes misted over as he looked into hers. "I . . . sold the house. I liquidated our assets. I even cashed out my pension. Anything to pay for the treatments, especially when she responded so well . . . at first." He had almost felt like he had _his_ Lanelle back. Gone were the headaches and mood swings. Her memory was as sharp as a youngster's again. The seizures ended. "I needed more cubits to continue the therapy."

"You started smuggling arms." Apollo commented.

Diallo nodded at the young flight leader, blinking rapidly to clear his clouding vision. "Brand was already involved. It was relatively minor in hindsight. He was selling old, outdated equipment to rebels. Making a tidy profit, mind you. I discovered his operation."

"And instead of reporting him . . . " Adama prompted him.

"I joined him and upped the ante." Diallo agreed. "I took control of his operation. I had access to the information we needed. The clout." He shrugged, shaking his head self-deprecatingly.

"So Brand was already involved. What about the coca?" Apollo asked, wondering how that became a part of the scenario.

"Again, that was Brand. I know he uses it off duty occasionally, but I'm not sure how much. He seems to get his job done. He always took advantage of our trips to get the 'good stuff' as he called it. I knew he traded for coca the day we set up Starbuck." It had been the perfect plan with all the pieces falling in place. He snorted. Or so he had thought.

"What did you sell the rebels, Diallo? How long has this been going on?" Adama asked, torn between his empathy for the man's motives and his distaste at his actions.

The colonel sighed. "Explosives mostly. You know how many we use in training maneuvers. They're easy to account for. Then one of the Chobatar leaders approached me about the new blasters with the dual setting. Hades, I even figured there would be less of them running around killing one another with the stun option." He met Adama's cool stare. "Strange how you start to rationalize it all."

He became aware his daughter was still holding his hands. He gazed down at her again. "As to how long, about two sectars. That was about the time it took for me to realize that your mother was losing control of the right side of her body. The treatments had only delayed the disease process." He looked to Adama. "My wife is still dying, Commander."

"I'm sorry." Adama responded shortly, clearing his throat, finding it choked with his own emotion. He couldn't help but wonder what he would have done in Diallo's position. But he and Ila wouldn't have waited so long . . .

"Now what?" Imara asked aloud, needing to know what would happen next.

"Because of your actions, a young man is sitting in the brig waiting to be expelled from the Academy, Colonel." Adama pointed out. "How could you so thoughtlessly decide to destroy his future?"

"It seemed the lesser of two evils, Commander. Brand wanted to kill Starbuck. He suggested we make it look like some kind of accident during the maneuvers." Diallo watched as they stared at him in horror. "Hades, at that point we didn't even know for sure it was Cadet Starbuck that saw us and overheard us. I figured if we set him up and had him expelled, he would just go away quietly, thankful that he wasn't going to be incarcerated. I wasn't counting on his . . . friends." He smiled slightly at his daughter and Apollo. Truthfully, he had thought a cadet like Starbuck would be easily framed. He certainly had a reputation for living a bit on the wild side. But his friends had gathered protectively around him, ready to defend him. It had been . . . unpredictable.

"Sergeant Brand was assaulting Starbuck when we visited the brig not long ago. I ordered him relieved of duty until he spoke with his commanding officer. You, I assume?" Adama saw Diallo's nod of agreement. "I think we should take this to Commander Orrick."

"Commander, despite what you've heard, I won't testify against my father. Not even for Starbuck." Imara stood protectively in front of the Colonel, her passion and convictions once again supporting him, as was right. "You still need my testimony to corroborate Starbuck's story. I want you to strike a deal for my father."

"Imara . . . " Diallo protested.

"No, wait. I don't agree with what you've done, Colonel. But I understand why you did it. The fracking Service that you poured your heart and soul into for thirty-five yahrens failed you when you most needed their help." Imara sought Diallo's eyes as he looked away uncomfortably. "I nailed it, didn't I?"

"Fracking bloody Hades Hole . . . " Diallo muttered as he pulled away from his daughter. Of course she nailed it. She knew him too well. He crossed his arms and took deep breaths, his back turned on them. _The Service looks after its own._ What a fracking joke! _C'mon, Diallo, get yourself together._

It was all too much. His wife's disease, his financial ruin trying to save her, his downward spiral into criminal activity, beating on one of his own cadets and then setting him up, and his ultimate humiliation in front of his own daughter and Commander Adama. He felt his body tremble, seeking emotional release. He refused to crumble.

"Cadet Imara. I believe in light of your father's personal situation that Commander Orrick may be willing to consider a . . . deal." Adama spoke softly, choosing his words carefully. "I don't want to overstep my bounds, as this is an Academy issue and Orrick is in charge. But I believe he will be amenable to an agreement of sorts. I will speak on your father's behalf."

Imara nodded as she stared at the ramrod-straight back of the Colonel. Her father. Oddly, _the Colonel_ had always suited him better. The Service was always more of a family to him than they had been . . . well, apparently not anymore. "Fair enough. What about Brand?" she asked Adama.

"He seems to lack the . . . sympathetic angle." Adama mused. "I think I'll leave that up to Commander Orrick to sort out."

"He's the one who should be incarcerated. That man is vicious and evil." Imara spat back at him, her hatred for the sergeant who had involved her father in arms smuggling coming to the forefront.

"I'm certain after Commander Orrick listens to Starbuck's statement, he'll agree with you, Cadet Imara." Adama returned. "Now, let's go to the Commander's office and sort all this out."

----------

Brand stumbled from Diallo's office building heading blindly out into the fading daylight. What the frack should he do now?

He had stopped by home to relax a little, but that had been short-lived. Typically his wife, Lara, was hosting some female-oriented household party; selling overpriced wares to her best friends and colleagues in the name of 'an evening out with the girls'. He had secluded himself in his den as she ran around tidying. He was apparently just one more out-of-place item.

Since he was technically off duty, he had even taken another hit of coca, the drug easing him as no other relaxant had ever done. It also gave him perspective. It made things clearer. He realized he had to talk to Diallo about Commander Adama's involvement. He told Lara he had an appointment with Diallo, which wasn't unusual these days, and left.

However, when he arrived at Diallo's office, it was only to discover his superior officer pouring his heart out to Adama. He stayed out of sight, but within earshot, as he listened to the tail end of their conversation. He was there long enough to realize that the Colonel had set him up.

_He's the one who should be incarcerated._ The girl's words reverberated in his mind. He's the one who undoubtedly would be. Brand could feel the sweat on his forehead trickling down his temples. His heart was pounding against his chest. He looked around for a place to go as he stood hesitating in the parade square.

The brig. His office. His refuge.

Yeah, he was told he was dismissed and relieved of duty, but that wouldn't stop him from going back to his office. He could sit and think things over there. Steady his nerves. He needed privacy. No prying eyes. No judgments. A place to think.

Within centons he was back at the brig. He coded himself in, almost walking straight into Keane, so intent he was on reaching his sanctuary.

"Aren't you supposed to be off duty?" Keane enquired, barring the way down the corridor. "Don't give me any trouble here, Brand."

"No trouble." Brand rasped. "Just need something in my office." _My sanity. _He shouldered past Keane and closed the door of his office behind him.

He slumped against the wall, pulling off his jacket. Lords, he was hot. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve as he crossed and opened his window. The cold breeze felt good on his hot skin. He let the wind soothe him until it was no longer comfortable.

His eyes fell to his desk. Brand sat in his chair and pulled out the main drawer. He removed it totally, turning it upside down to reveal the Chobatar's gift to him. It was a new form of coca. Natana had insisted it was easier to conceal and transport. He held up the small, rough square, paper-like in texture.

Lords, maybe he shouldn't try it here . . . now. His hand shook as he raised it to eyelevel to study it. It looked harmless enough really. He snorted as he realized it was nothing that he couldn't handle. After all, he was off duty. Beside, it might even help him sort things out. Maybe he could come up with an idea to get him out of this mess.

He placed the dose under his tongue and leaned back, closing his eyes. He had never had so many doses in a day before . . . but sometimes a man had to test his boundaries to establish his control. He _did_ control the drug, not the other way around. It was his _choice_ to take another hit.

He could feel his heart race as the drug traveled through his system. _Lords, it was so good._ He opened his eyes and looked around the office; every colour was sharper, every line more defined. He was heightening his awareness, altering his existence. _Elysium._

He heard a cough and realized even his hearing was more acute. Keane was likely putting together some food for the detainee, if the clatter of dishes was any indication. He gritted his teeth as he thought about the cadet who had brought him so much trouble.

He had had a sweet little deal going when Diallo had uncovered his operation. Then when the Colonel had come on board, it had become even sweeter. Hades, he was finally making some real money with the supplies that Diallo could redirect and flog. Now, it was crashing down around them. It was that fracking cadet's fault.

What was it Starbuck had said to him? _It began with you and it's going to end with your tribunal._ Or words to that effect. Well, the more he thought about it, **the clearer it became that **the problem actually **began** with that cadet.

Cadet Starbuck was the key witness to all of it. Without him they didn't have a case. He absently wiped at his eyes, surprised to see the perspiration that had gathered there. He was still sweating profusely. It was hotter in there than he realized.

Now, Adama had said something about it all hinging on Commander Orrick listening to Starbuck's statement. That was interesting. What if the cadet wasn't around to make a statement? That could be arranged. Without the key witness, their case against him would fall apart.

A cold smile drifted across his face. Yeah, the coca made everything so much more comprehendible. He had walked in there in a panic, and now he had a clear path to salvation.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter fifteen

After a gastronomic feast of grey stuff, with some fluffy white stuff, and a side dish of green thingies, all covered in brown sauce, Starbuck stretched out on the bunk in his cell. He tried to remind himself he had spent the previous night in the infirmary and that was why he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. It had nothing to do with the quarter letron of partially congealed sauce that he had just consumed.

He ran his fingers lightly over the small dressing Commander Adama had applied to his head. He had never thought he would see a leader of men like Adama, pushing him down on the bunk as though he was a child, and field dressing his head wound.

Well, admittedly it wasn't much of a head wound. It still hurt though. Actually, the slight headache was more bothersome than the small cut.

He pushed away the memories of Brand breathing down his neck. It had been one of the most terrifying moments in his life. He had actually thought the man had totally lost it, and that he was going to be his first victim.

Scratch that. Brand had had victims throughout his career. Starbuck wasn't his first. There had been rumours flying around the Academy for yahrens about Brand taking matters into his own hands. That was part of what made him an effective drill-sergeant. Cadets feared him.

But, Brand really seemed like he was about to cross that imaginary line with Starbuck. The cadet knew he didn't usually overreact; he could read malignant intent like a book. Starbuck's survival had depended on it.

Yeah, he had never been so relieved as when Adama's booming voice had put an end to Brand's search. Then after talking things through with the Commander and his son, he was actually feeling hopeful that things would get sorted out. He had one Hades of a team on his side, after all.

So, when Captain Corpeus had finally shown his dour face, Starbuck had told him off and thrown him out. Well, he would have thrown him out if the man hadn't chosen to have his conversation with the irate cadet while remaining in the corridor. All the same, it felt damned good to tell Corpeus just where the protector could file his deal.

His eyes fluttered shut. Commander Adama and Apollo were speaking with Colonel Diallo by now. Adama had been incensed when he had left the brig. Starbuck could see where Apollo got it. Indignation apparently ran in the family. It was a nice trait actually.

Hopefully, his next visitor would be Apollo, telling him he could go back to the barracks. Lords, his narrow, cold, lumpy little bunk would be like heaven. Surrounded by the sonorous tones of his fellow cadets, he would sleep like a newborn babe safe in his mother's arms. It was so much easier to fall asleep in the . . .

_Click._

Starbuck's eyes half-opened as he waited. Nothing. No clap of boots. No call of warning. Nothing.

Abruptly, his heart began to_ thud _against his chest. He turned his head towards the cell door, still waiting. Every sense was alive and tuned in to the corridor. Then he heard the faint scrape of a boot scuffing the floor, as if someone was doing their damnedest to felix-foot their way along. He sat up.

Once again his eyes flew around the room, looking for a weapon. Anything. The dinner tray. He rifled through the dishes, all of them plastic, so were the utensils. However, the tray itself . . .

A shadow fell across his line of sight and he looked over to see Brand, security card in hand, reaching silently across to open the cell. He glared venomously at the cadet.

Starbuck leapt to his feet, grabbing the metal tray and letting it fly, as the doors _hissed_ open. It caught the sergeant full across the face, knocking him back a half-metron as he regained his balance. Then the cadet rushed him.

Starbuck crashed into Brand, grabbing him around the chest and hauling him to the floor, before the man had a chance to recover. He heard the _thwack_ as the sergeant's head bounced off the floor. He grabbed the front of Brand's tunic with his left hand, pulling back his right, fully prepared to pummel the man. Then he felt Brand fall limp beneath him.

Starbuck's chest heaved with his sudden exertion as he gazed down at the sergeant. "Keane!" he shouted towards the door, which separated the cells from the offices. It was ajar, which was unheard of in the security office.

Frack, it was like one of those bad scenes in a horror holovid. The maniac intruder. The beckoning doorway. No other way out. Well, at least he didn't have big breasts, long hair and a tight sweater.

He climbed off Brand, taking a step towards the slightly open doorway. Every muscle was tense as he wondered what he would find. What had become of Keane? His eyes flickered back down to Brand, knowing that the sergeant would have had something to do with this, unless Keane was in on it with him. Then he could just as well be waiting for Starbuck. _Frack._

He crept along the corridor, gently pushing the door open. Keane was in a heap on the floor just behind the door, his leg propping it open. The cadet knelt beside the security officer.

"Keane. Hey, Keane." Starbuck gave him a nudge.

The officer was out cold. The cadet checked his pulse, more out of training, than for any need to confirm it was there. The man was breathing evenly and his colour was good.

He needed to get to a comm and call for help. This wouldn't look very good, two unconscious security officers and a sprung detainee. His eyes flickered up to the comm only metrons away. Who exactly should he call when Security was down? Colonel Diallo? _ Just great, Bucko. _Lords, he should secure Brand before doing anything . . .

**_Whack!_****The sudden blow****between his shoulders** sent him sprawling across the floor. He swore he was still in motion when Brand's weight was suddenly upon his back, his arm curled around Starbuck's throat. The sergeant pulled him backwards, until his feet were under him, and then dragged him back into the cellblock.

Starbuck grasped futilely at the beefy arm around his throat. He gasped for breath as Brand brutally kicked Keane, forcing the man clear of the doorjamb. The door automatically swung shut. _Click_.

Brand dropped the cadet on the floor, taking several steps back. Starbuck twisted around and quickly regained his feet, gulping in deep breaths. Brand was poised for action, motioning the cadet to join him with a slight beckoning of his fingers. His grin spreading evilly across his face. "Come on, Starbuck. Show me what you've got."

Well, hand-to-hand combat wasn't exactly Starbuck's forte. He wasn't built for it. He was lean and fast, not built like a pit-Taurus like Brand. He knew his strength lay in using surprise to gain an advantage. How in Hades was he supposed to do that when the sergeant was facing him down? _This is why you chose to fly a viper, Starbuck._

"C'mon, kid." Brand taunted him again. "I think I'm being generous giving you a chance. I was just going to choke you to death and then hang you from a ceiling beam with your own belt around your scrawny little neck."

"How in Hades would you explain that?" Starbuck rasped, noting the sergeant's dilated pupils and his flushed skin. Sweat was running off him in torrents.

"Easy. Once you accidentally killed Keane while trying to escape, you were over-whelmed with guilt. You hung yourself."

"But Keane isn't . . . " Dread penetrated his senses as he realized Brand meant to kill them both. His mouth was suddenly dry. "Why would I try to escape? Commander Adama is arranging for me to go free right now." He took an involuntary step back as Brand advanced on him.

"You panicked." Brand grinned, seeing the fear on the face of his victim. It was gratifying. He lunged towards the cadet.

Starbuck leapt to meet him, after all, there was no place to run. He aimed low and cannonballed into Brand's legs, knocking the man head over heels to the floor. Starbuck scrambled to his feet and threw himself onto the sergeant, while the supine man was still catching his breath.

Days of pent up anger and frustration finally culminated in a powerful blow to Brand's gut. Starbuck heard the _oomph_ of air expelled from the sergeant as the man's hands instinctively covered his stomach. Pressing his advantage, he landed a blow to Brand's jaw.

Brand's body convulsed, and he suddenly bucked his hips wildly, unseating the cadet who tumbled against the wall. The sergeant rolled to his side punching the cadet in the chin with such force that Starbuck's head snapped back against the wall.

The cadet slumped against the wall.

"Not bad, kid. Just not good enough." Brand huffed as he reached down to the cadet's waist and undid his belt, pulling it free. He looped the belt around Starbuck's neck, pulling it tight. No response.

This would really be easier if he didn't have to carry Starbuck to the beam. Besides, if the kid wasn't going to kick as he choked to death, it wouldn't be much fun to watch. And really, wasn't it all about the fun?

Brand slapped Starbuck sharply across the face, eliciting a low groan. "Wakey, wakey," he said in his best fatherly voice.

Starbuck moaned as he opened his eyes, still feeling the sting of Brand's strike. His head was pounding and his body felt sluggish as he tried to focus on the man before him. Even holding his head erect was difficult with the pain radiating from the back of his skull down to his neck. He could taste the sharp metallic tang of blood.

"Time to die, Starbuck." Brand growled as he gripped the end of the belt tightly, winding it around his hand. He pulled sharply and heard the squeaky wheeze of breath escape, as the cadet's airway was closed off. He grabbed the cadet's light infirmary tunic and yanked him to his feet, dragging him backwards into the cell.

Starbuck's fingers desperately pried at the leather band on his throat. His mind vaguely recalled Brand threatening to strangle him. He could hear his wheezing, gasping breaths and he sought to suck air into his lungs past the occlusive barrier of his belt.

Brand stepped onto the bunk and physically lifted the slim cadet up with him. He knew there was a nail pounded into the supporting beam up there. He had put it there himself, finding it amusing to see if anyone noticed. So far there'd only been one suicide in the brig because of that nail. This would be number two. Officially, anyhow. First though, he had to reach the nail so he could loop one of the belt holes on to it.

Starbuck's neck was arched back with the pulling pressure of the belt, and with mounting terror he watched Brand's hand stretch up towards a nail just beside the bunk. He could feel his feet losing contact with the bunk as the Sergeant hefted him up towards the nail, his meaty arm enveloping the cadet. The leather band was not quite long enough, and he could hear Brand grunt with exertion.

Starbuck forced himself to let go of his belt, his airway abruptly cut off. Simultaneously, he reached behind him, trying to pry at Brand's eyes with his thumbs. The scream behind him indicated he had found his mark. He held on tightly as the sergeant lost his balance and they both fell, landing roughly against the sink and turbo flush.

"Hold it!" Colonel Diallo's voice commanded as he fumbled for his command card to open the cell.

Starbuck looked up half-dazed from his prone position on the floor, to see **several familiar faces**,**their features twisted in apprehension and shock.** Commander Adama, Colonel Diallo, Apollo and Imara, **his brain finally registered**.

Apollo and Imara's faces suddenly changed and he could see them mime a scream of warning, the sound not penetrating until a micron later. He rolled over as if in a dream to see Brand pointing a blaster at him. The sergeant took a purposeful step forward.

Inexplicably, Brand lost his footing, and fell backwards, a cry bursting from his lips. His head crashed into the turbo flush, and he dropped to the floor beside Starbuck, unconscious.

The cell _hissed_ opened and the four warriors poured into the tiny space.

"Are you okay?" Apollo kneeled down beside his friend, prying Starbuck's hands from his throat to check for injuries. Dazed blue eyes gazed back at him, and then looked sluggishly around at the other faces. A slight wheeze persisted when he breathed. "Starbuck! Say something!"

"Is he breathing all right?" Adama asked his son, soon seeing for himself that he was. The Commander leaned over Starbuck, also palpating his throat. "Comm the infirmary, Diallo. I don't like the look of either one of them."

"Right, sir." Diallo replied, already on his way.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Imara kneeled on Starbuck's other side.

"I'm not sure. Starbuck? Can you say something?" Adama asked.

Starbuck nodded slowly and tried to clear his throat. A cough was all he could get out. His hand covered his throat again as a sharp pain pulsed through his neck.

"Let's sit him up. It might help with the swelling." Apollo told them, getting behind Starbuck and propping him up into a sitting position. He winced as he looked at the swollen lump that was spreading across the front of Starbuck's neck. "How's Brand?"

"Still out cold." Adama remarked as he leaned over the sergeant. "He's got a huge lump on the back of his head from his fall."

"How _did_ he fall?" Apollo asked, feeling his friend's breaths quicken and the wheezing intensify.

"Slipped on a bar of soap." Imara remarked. She leaned in front of Starbuck, grabbing his hands and trying to pull them from his throat. "Let me see."

Starbuck could feel hands pulling at his, but his instinct to grasp at his throat while each successive breath grew increasingly difficult, kept them firmly in place.

"Starbuck!" Imara grabbed his face between her hands and stared into his eyes, demanding to be heard. "Let me look at your neck. Let go!" She saw him focus on her briefly, as if trying to understand her words. "Let go," she repeated firmly, pulling at his hands again, but this time feeling them grasp hers firmly.

_Can't breathe. _Starbuck knew his mouth was open and he was forming the words, but nothing but a hoarse rasp was coming out. He squeezed Imara's hands, trying to will her to understand. Her dark eyes stared back at him, full of fear. That didn't help.

"Colonel! Where's that med team? We need help now!" Adama roared, wondering if it would make more sense to lift the young man in their arms and carry him the short distance to the infirmary.

Diallo flew to Starbuck's side. "I can see them from the doorway. They're on their way." He touched Starbuck's neck, the swelling easily visible. He pushed on the wound, causing the cadet to flinch away from him. "Easy, Starbuck. I'm here to help. Really."

Oddly enough, that wasn't very comforting, when the pressure from Diallo's hands caused intense pain and subsequently made it even more difficult to breathe. He struggled to escape Diallo's hands, but Apollo held him firmly in place.

"Starbuck, he needs to put pressure on the area." Apollo cried, even as he looked at Diallo questioning if that was indeed the point of the painful exercise.

Diallo nodded. "You're bleeding, Cadet. Now buck up and sit still. Your struggling only makes it worse." He barked at Starbuck with all his usual authority that demanded obedience.

He didn't really mean to do it. It just happened. Instinct.

Diallo reeled backwards as Starbuck's fist caught him in the nose. Blood poured between his fingers as the sickening crunch of cartilage echoed in his ears_. Fracking Hades Hole!_

Apollo stared in surprise at the Colonel who had tumbled onto his astrum. He watched Imara give her father a cursory glance before she leaned forward and applied pressure to Starbuck's neck again.

"Try that with me, Pal, and I'll throttle you." She warned him, but her words lacked her father's bite.

Voices rung out from down the corridor and the sound of boots reverberated through the brig. Two med techs appeared, with Dr. Alpheus bringing up the rear.

"Out of the way." Zhi ordered them, and all except Apollo moved. The cell was meant to hold one man, not nine.

Med Tech Nagra raced to Brand while Zhi ran the biomonitor over Starbuck, stopping to magnify the resonance over his neck. "We have a hematoma here, Doctor. Probable fractured larynx."

"Sats?" Alpheus wheezed as he climbed down onto his knees. Lords, he was getting too bloody old for this felgercarb.

"Eight-five percent." Zhi replied, as he dug into his med kit and pulled out oxygen, promptly applying the facemask to the cadet. "Blood pressure is holding. I'll start an intravenous access."

"Subdural hematoma here, Sir." Nagra called out. "Blood pressure is 230 over 120. Tachycardiac at 160. Frack, he's pyrexial too. Burning up. None responsive and pupils non-reactive. I think he's gonna code, sir."

"Frack! We need them both in surgery stat!" Alpheus cried, climbing with difficulty to his feet.

"Sir, we only have one surgeon." Zhi pointed out, as he set up the intravenous and then turned to activate the hoverstretcher.

"Prep the cadet for a tracheostomy. If we have to ventilate him, we will. That should stabilize him. Hopefully, the sergeant can wait that long. Now let's move!"

"What can we do to help?" Apollo asked, still holding his friend whose chest was heaving with the effort to breathe.

"You take his top half, I'll take the bottom. On three we lift." Zhi said, indicating the hoverstretcher. "One, two, three."

The two men lifted Starbuck onto the stretcher. Zhi secured the biomonitor, intravenous and oxygen and started pushing. Apollo helped guide the gurney through the narrow corridor, passing by Security Officer Keane, who was groggy, but awake, and being treated by another medic. Imara led the way, holding open doors and clearing people out of their path.

"Where's Dr. Alpheus?" Imara asked Zhi, looking behind them as she ran ahead of the stretcher.

"He needs to help Nagra with Brand, just in case he codes." Zhi puffed as they raced across the square, curious eyes following them.

"What if Starbuck stops breathing?" Apollo shouted.

"If it happens, we'll deal with it." Zhi told him.

"What in Hades do we do? Run back to Alpheus?" Imara yelled.

"No, we prep him for surgery. That's the only thing that will give him an airway."

As they reached the infirmary, the door flew open and several health care members raced down the stairs. With but a passing glance for Zhi, they shot across the square.

"Frack." Zhi muttered, looking behind him to see Alpheus leaning over the hoverstretcher and compressing Brand's chest.

"Oh, my God . . . " Imara muttered, her face pale.

"Zhi! Starbuck!" Apollo cried, realizing the cadet was pulling at his oxygen mask and gasping for breath, his lips dusky and his eyes rolling back in his head.

"Double frack!" Zhi exclaimed. "Imara, get that mask on him! I'm cranking up the O2! Let's move it, people!"

They crashed through the doors and two more techs joined them as Zhi shouted instructions to his team members. Mayhem seemed to break loose, but each health care member knew his role and performed it efficiently. Within a centon, they had Starbuck prepped and rolling into surgery.

"You have to wait here!" Zhi put a hand to Apollo's chest and grabbed an even more determined Imara by the arm. "We've got him from here."

"But what about Alpheus?" Imara cried.

"We can get an airway without Alpheus." Despite the claim, his eyes anxiously searched the entranceway for a sign of his Chief Medical Officer.

At that moment the second hoverstretcher crashed through the doors, Alpheus leading the way. "Prep him!" The Doctor shouted to the team. He looked to Zhi. "Is the neck ready?"

"Yes, sir!" Zhi replied, again pushing Imara back.

Alpheus ran in to the theatre, not even speaking to them.

"I'll let you know when we have him stabilized." Zhi promised, and stepped inside, shutting the door firmly behind him.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

_Crude, but effective._

_How long?_

_Not much longer. We'll try to remove the tube soon. The regeneration treatments and medication have reduced the swelling and the reconstructive surgery has repaired the structural damage to his larynx._

_Is he going to be . . . ?_

_He'll be fine. We expect a full recovery. He'll be back in his Starfighter next secton._

His eyelids fluttered, attempting to open. He knew they were talking about him. If he could just get his eyes open, but a warm, fuzzy feeling was dragging him back down.

_Starbuck?_

Their voices sounded far away. It was comforting really. Almost like angels watching over him.

_Hey Starbuck, can you hear me?_

_He's still coming out of the sedation, Cadet. It won't be much longer._

The last thing he remembered, he thought he was going to die. As much as he'd thought he'd come to terms with the idea after almost three yahrens of training at the Academy, he now realized he was wrong. Plain and simple, death was bad, and therefore should be avoided at all costs.

Truthfully, he had expected he'd buy it in a fighter, warring with the Cylons. Not at the Caprican Academy, hanging by the neck from his own belt. _Lords Starbuck, how do you get yourself into these situations?_

A cold mist was gently blowing onto his neck. He wasn't sure why it was there, but all it seemed to be doing was making him cold, drawing him further away from the darkness. He reached for the offending object, trying to pull it away.

"You need that right now, Starbuck. Easy now." Cool hands pulled his away.

Starbuck opened his eyes to see Dr. Alpheus and Apollo gazing down at him. A quick glance assured him they were the only two present, other than the members of the health team on the periphery. _What happened?_

"Sorry son, didn't catch that. You have a tube in your throat that's been helping you breathe. You can't talk right now. I'm going to sit you up a bit more and deflate the cuff. If you can breathe all right, and I'm certain you can, we'll take out the tube." Dr. Alpheus told him in a calm manner.

_What?_ Starbuck mimed, gazing at him in bewilderment.

"Starbuck, your larynx was fractured. You had a hematoma that effectively occluded your airway. We repaired the damage and drained the hematoma. The tube in your throat bypassed the swelling and enabled you to breathe. I think we're ready to remove it after the regeneration treatments that you had last night."

Starbuck felt the head of his biostretcher going up. _Last night?_ He seemed to have lost a day somewhere.

"Now, when I deflate the cuff, it's going to make you want to cough. Just go ahead." Alpheus had a long tube in one hand and a blunt syringe in the other. "Stand back out of the way, Apollo."

At that, Starbuck stared at the Doctor wide-eyed wondering what was about to happen. He noticed his friend wasted no time in complying with the physician.

"All right. Here we go." Alpheus picked up the small cord that was attached to the trach tube and attached his syringe. He pulled back on the syringe, sucking out the air that kept the cuff inflated.

Abruptly, Starbuck coughed, feeling as though someone had just thrown a cup of water into his lungs. Mucous hurled from his throat and across the room, hitting the wall.

"That's it. Now take a deep breath and give me another cough, just like that one." Alpheus encouraged him.

Starbuck did as he was told; his next projectile mucous plug hit its target creating a disgusting mosaic on the wall. He cringed at the sight of it.

"Well done." Alpheus encouraged him. "Uhm . . . are you all right, Apollo?"

"Uh . . . yeah." The Phoenix leader replied, wishing he had stepped out of the room. The doctor could have prepared him for bodily fluids flying across the room before he signed up for this duty of friendship.

"You can leave if you like." Alpheus told him.

Apollo looked at his friend gripping the rails of the biostretcher, white-knuckled. "No, I'll stay." Starbuck nodded at him gratefully. "Do you want me to hold your hand, Bucko?" Apollo stood beside him, a rueful grin on his face.

Starbuck mimed something at him sourly, rising to the bait.

Apollo grinned in reply. "Sorry, I didn't get that. Actually, maybe you should leave the tube in a while, Doctor. I think it's an improvement."

Starbuck turned his upper body to face Apollo, with a menacing look on his features. He pointed to his throat and then at his flight leader, miming threats the entire time.

"Don't you dare cough on me!" Apollo exclaimed, unable to contain his grin.

"All right now, you two, that's enough." Alpheus attempting to restore order, an amused smile on his face. The Phoenix leader had managed to ease his friend's tension effectively enough. "Now, Starbuck, I'm just going to put my finger over the tube. That should tell us whether or not you can go without it. If you can breathe around it, you obviously don't need it." Alpheus leaned in and plugged the hole before Starbuck could think about it too much.

The cadet startled slightly as his airway naturally rerouted. He sat anxiously staring at the doctor and taking deep breaths.

"You should be able to talk now. How do you feel?" Alpheus asked him, his eyes on the biomonitor at the bedside.

"Fine." Starbuck said hoarsely, his throat still sore.

"Everything looks good. I'm going to take out the tube." Alpheus undid the fastening that secured the tube in place. In one quick move he pulled out the tube and covered the small hole with an occlusive dressing. "All done. Now, we're going to hold on to you for another day. Tomorrow, I want you to just take it easy. Cadet Apollo has informed me that you're getting a secton-end pass. I'd recommend you just rest. Your body has been through a lot this secton, and you need to recover if you want me to clear you for flying next secton. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir." Starbuck replied, his voice still rough.

"Later today, I'll send someone along to laser mend the stoma. Until then just press on it when you talk, cough or eat. That will help it heal quicker." The doctor indicated his throat dressing. "Don't stay too long, Apollo. He needs to get some rest."

"Yes, sir. And thanks. Dr. Alpheus."

Starbuck watched the older man move away to check on another patient. He tentatively touched his throat, splinting the wound. "What time is it?"

"1400 centars. They sedated you after your surgery yesterday. You've been out for a good twenty centars." Apollo told him, pulling up a chair.

"What happened?" Starbuck asked, feeling disoriented.

"What do you remember?"

"Well, Brand tried to . . . kill me. But . . . " Images flickered across his mind. Including that of an unconscious Keane lying on the floor. "Is Keane okay?"

"Yeah. Brand knocked him out. He didn't even know what hit him. He has a slight concussion, but he's okay."

"What about Diallo? What happened when you went to see him?" Starbuck asked, trying to fill in the missing fragments of his life.

"This is confidential." Apollo watched Starbuck nod briefly. Adama had agreed that Starbuck should be told the story, if only to understand the outcome. "His wife is dying from a brain tumour. He started smuggling Academy supplies to cover experimental treatments, in hopes it would save her life." He watched Starbuck raise his eyebrows in surprise.

Apollo nodded. "Commander Orrick has decided not to charge him based on his emotional duress. However, he is demoting him and reassigning him to the base at Arktos. It's all been done quietly." Though Arktos was an important defensive position from the point of planetary security, it was a barren, frozen wasteland. The tribunal had been behind closed doors. That decision hadn't sat particularly well with Apollo, so he could only image how Starbuck would react. Commander Orrick, Commander Adama and Professor Hegen had received Apollo and Imara separately, solely to give their statements. Later Adama had informed Apollo of the tribunal's decision and sworn him to secrecy. To Apollo's surprise, Starbuck just nodded, seemingly uncaring.

"And Brand?"

"He's dead, Starbuck. The doctor said he had a massive amount of coca in his system. I guess it thins the blood. When he hit his head, he ended up with a brain hemorrhage which killed him due to complications from the coca."

Starbuck paused in thought, just letting it sink in. Brand was dead. He kept his features carefully impassive, just as he had done at the news of Diallo's release. The sergeant was a repugnant tyrant who had made the average Cylon look like a caring creature. At least the Cylons just shot you out of the sky. Brand had assaulted him both mentally and physically. He wouldn't miss the maniac. Not one bit. He blew out the breath he was holding. "How's Imara?"

"She was here most of last night, buddy. She wouldn't leave until we knew you were okay. I haven't seen her since I followed her in to Commander Orrick's office to testify this morning. I do know she went with Diallo for the tribunal's decision."

Starbuck nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted. He closed his eyes and rubbed his throat once again. It felt as though someone had ripped it out, trampled on it, and then stuck it back down again. Actually, most of him felt that way.

He couldn't help but resent the fact that Diallo had received a closed tribunal. After all, if he, a mere cadet, had actually made it to tribunal for his drug charges, they certainly wouldn't have concerned themselves with his reputation or privacy. On the other hand, this way would have been much less painful for Imara. Lords, she had been through enough.

"Do you need something for pain, Cadet?" a familiar voice asked.

Starbuck opened his eyes to see Med Tech Zhi looking down at him in concern. He cleared his throat when his attempt at speech came out thick and raspy. "Yeah. Do you ever get time off?"

Zhi smiled in response and reprogrammed the medical pump at Starbuck's bedside. "This will probably make you a bit dozy."

"Don't say it." Starbuck warned Apollo, who simply grinned.

"Maybe I should let you get some rest. The squadron will want to know how you're doing." Apollo stood to go as he watched Starbuck's eyelids begin to droop again.

"Apollo." Starbuck stopped him.

"Yeah? Do you need anything?"

"No, I just . . . " He shook his head slightly to clear it. The sensation seemed to rise from his chest and envelop him snugly, once again threatening to draw him down into that warm, dark place . . .

"Get some rest, Starbuck." Apollo patted his hand, surprised when Starbuck grabbed it and looked up at him, fighting to keep his eyes open.

"Thanks for believing in me, buddy." Starbuck mumbled, his words sounding thick and fuzzy to his ears. "It means a lot."

"That's what friends are for, Bucko." Apollo replied with a smile. "Now get some rest."

Starbuck was asleep before the last words were out of Apollo's mouth.

----------

What a secton. A day of maneuvers, a day in the infirmary, a day in the brig and then back in the infirmary. Now, as he studied his datapad, which Dorado had been _kind_ enough to drop off to him, he realized he had missed three days of classes. If what Dr. Alpheus meant about taking it easy didn't include one and a half centars of hand-to-hand combat training in the morning followed by an afternoon of amphibious operations in the natatorium, he was going to miss another day. _Well, guess what you'll be doing on your secton-end pass, Starbuck? Making up classes._

He looked around the life station to see a couple techs at computers and the only other patient walking out the door to freedom. He sighed.

2100 centars. No sign of Imara.

For someone who had apparently been so fracking worried about him the night before, she hadn't made much effort to see him when he was awake. Women, who could figure them out?

He shook his head and checked his throat for the hundredth time that day. The hole was indeed closed over. The pain had faded to a dull ache. Kind of like the sore throat one associated with a virus. Med tech Zhi had told him it would be completely gone within a few days. Amazing really. One night he's unable to breathe and is being rushed into emergency surgery, and the next he's fine. Yeah, the Service sure had the medical care down to get their warriors back into the field ASAP.

He swung his feet to the ground, padding across the room to look out the windows. Another wet, gloomy day in Caprica City. It was pitch dark already. Perfect lurking-about weather.

He looked back at the med techs. He really didn't need to be here any longer. It was only under Dr. Alpheus' orders that they were keeping him. His tubes were all out and he had even managed to force down the thick fluids they had put in front of him in the evening. Ironically, each selection tasted much like the last.

Beside, he just had an inexplicable feeling that if he didn't track down Imara soon, he wasn't going to see her again. No, he didn't have anything concrete to base it on, but in the past he had usually found it's best to follow your gut feeling.

He stepped over to the desk and drummed his fingers quietly on the counter as he waited for the tech to finish what she was doing.

"What do you need, Starbuck?" Solana asked him, looking up with a smile.

"What do I need to do to get out of here?" Starbuck asked tentatively. He had thought about sneaking out, but it was preposterous in the large room where the med techs could see him everywhere except the turbo flush . . . and contrary to the rules of fresh air and ventilation, there were no windows in the flusher to make good an escape.

"Dr. Alpheus said tomorrow." She reminded him gently. He still looked pale and was moving about with all the agility of the Chief Medical Officer after a twelve-centar shift.

"I _need_ to get out tonight." Starbuck held her gaze. "Even just for a couple centars."

"Why?" Solana asked, her eyebrows raised. _This ought to be good._

"I can't . . . really say." He looked down, avoiding her searching gaze, and studied his hands. "It's . . . confidential. Commander's orders." He shook his head, a tad dramatically, and ran his fingers back through his hair anxiously. He met her curious glance. "I know. That doesn't help much, does it?" He looked at her sadly, his eyes flickering over the chrono on the wall and then back again.

Solana looked at her partner, who shrugged nonchalantly. "Uh, just a couple centars? Then you'll be back?" He looked so distraught. It was just like a pass. Dr. Alpheus often granted passes just before a patient was ready for discharge.

He nodded tentatively, his eyes lighting up slightly at the thought that she might voluntarily let him go. He reached down and squeezed her hand gently. "I promise."

She smiled up at him. "All right, but you better make it a centar. Curfew is at 2200."

"Thanks Solana. I appreciate it." He gave her the benefit of his most charming smile before turning to grab the uniform Dorado had brought him.

Within centons he was dressed and heading towards the Brites Building. He pulled up his collar against the wind and the rain. Oddly enough, there were very few other people loitering in the square. Lords, it was foul weather.

Starbuck took the steps two at a time and then walked in the front door, heading directly for the stairwell. He pushed his damp hair back from where it was plastered against his forehead. It wasn't curfew yet, so it wasn't necessarily against any rules for him to be in the women's dormitory. All the same, he received a few amused glances as he rushed towards Imara's room.

He knocked briskly on the door, his heart racing. _It was the run up the stairs, Starbuck. That's all._

The door opened to reveal Danna, Imara's roommate. She looked at him hesitantly and frowned before swinging the door wider to let him in. "Hi."

"Imara's not here?" Starbuck confirmed, quickly scanning the room. He turned in a slow circle as he noticed the stripped second bed and the curiously empty half of the room. "What's going on, Danna? Where is she?"

"She's gone, Starbuck." Danna admitted. "She's . . . quitting."

"Quitting? Imara? Felgercarb." He retorted, not believing it for a micron. "Where is she?"

"I don't know. Honestly. She left about twenty centons ago." Danna touched his arm. "She did resign, Starbuck. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, but she really did quit."

He knew he was staring at her dumbly, but he couldn't help it. "Why in Hades would she resign? She's going to graduate in a few sectars!"

Danna shrugged and held up her hands. "Hey, from the stories I've been hearing, you probably have a better idea about that than me. I'm completely in the dark." Her pinched expression told him she wasn't too pleased about that.

He nodded briefly and turned to go. He was half way down the second staircase when he realized he hadn't even thanked her.

Starbuck stepped out into the inclement night once again. The wind and rain whirled about him as he stood on the steps, wondering where to go next. Where could she possibly be if she only left twenty centons ago?

_Of course. _

He hurried across the square, sniffing to himself. _Didn't think you'd ever go there of your own accord, did you, Bucko?_

He entered the stately building that housed Colonel Diallo's office. Correction. He wasn't a Colonel anymore. He wondered how far back Diallo had been busted. It hadn't occurred to him to ask Apollo.

Diallo's office was at the end of the corridor. The light was on beneath the door. He gathered his resolve and briskly walked to the threshold, rapping twice on the door.

Microns seemed to stretch into centars as he waited for a response. He reflected that he had never chased around after a girl like this before. He had never really needed to. However, he'd never met someone like Imara before now.

The door cracked open a few centimetrons, and a surprised Diallo looked back at him. "I wasn't expecting to see you again."

"I'll bet you weren't." Starbuck replied coolly, quickly noting the major's insignia on Diallo's collar, but mainly trying to see beyond the man who had put him through Hades and back. Then again, he hadn't exactly been a ray of sunshine in Diallo's life lately either. "I'm looking for Imara."

Diallo looked back over his shoulder. "It's Starbuck," he told his daughter.

Starbuck caught the soft murmur of Imara's voice responding to her father. He was unable to make out her words. Diallo turned to him again, studying the cadet.

"I suppose you think I owe you an apology." Diallo suggested candidly.

"No." Starbuck replied after a moment. "You don't owe me anything. I didn't come here to see you. I just want to talk to your daughter." They didn't have any unresolved issues, the way he saw it. This was just one of those crappy hands that life dealt you. He didn't need to dissect it, analyze it or come to terms with it. He'd just file it under 'another lesson learned' and move on.

Diallo nodded briefly. "Somehow I don't see any family dinners in our future. You know that, don't you?"

Starbuck met his gaze, hearing the hard truth in his words. Hades, he had figured that out the night that Imara had told him it was over. He didn't need Diallo to tell him. "Get out of my way." He replied evenly.

Diallo's initial reaction was to tell off the cadet, as he stared him down. Something about their previous physical encounters made his anger rise quicker than usual at the blatant insubordination. His recently broken nose was a vivid reminder of their last meeting. Starbuck didn't flinch and held his ground, no hint of regret in his stance. Diallo looked beyond the bravado and saw the pallor, the bruised face and neck, the intensity behind his aloof front. He stepped into the corridor.

"I'll give you some privacy." Diallo told him gruffly before turning on his heel and walking away.

The door opened wider to reveal Imara. Her eyes were already moist at the thought of what was to come. She studied him for a centon, from head to toe, remembering how she had almost lost him the night before. Now, twenty-four centars later, she was simply walking away. She smiled sadly. "You look like mong. You should be in bed."

He drew in a deep breath and stepped towards her, pulling her close. He felt her head burrow into his shoulder, and ran his fingers through the silky, dark strands. "That's the strangest proposition I've ever had."

Her body trembled ever so slightly; a stifled chuckle filled the room. She stood back and looked at him with a smile on her face. "You always make me laugh." She felt his hand stroke her cheek and leaned in against his touch, savouring it.

He cupped her face and kissed her. Soft. Gentle. A caress of flesh on flesh. His forehead touched hers and he sighed, breathing in her scent. He was afraid to ruin the moment.

Her arms enfolded him again and she pulled him close, reluctant to speak, though they had so much to say. She ran a hand up through his hair, loving the feel of it. "I . . . I'm going to miss you so much." She bit her lip, a more revealing confession on the tip of her tongue.

"Why are you leaving?" Starbuck asked, needing to hear her explanation. It wasn't like her to run away . . . especially without saying goodbye. Oh, they may have only had a short-term relationship, but he figured he had grown to know her fairly well over the yahrens. Her fierce independence and spirit had drawn him to her as much as her beauty. Well, almost.

Imara drew back and studied his features. She traced the bruise on his cheekbone with the tip of her finger. "I just can't . . . deal with all this right now. It's too fresh in my mind." She watched him start to respond but put her fingers to his lips to quiet him. "I already hate everyone looking at me, wanting to know what happened. Tomorrow, another officer will replace my father. I can't be here to see that happen. It's just too hard for me."

"But you're just a few sectars from graduation, Imara." Starbuck argued with her, taking her hands in his. "You have a whole career ahead of you. You'll be leaving this place behind soon enough. You have friends who will support you through this, people who . . . care about you." _People who love you._ Why was it so hard to say out loud? Perhaps because he knew no matter what he confessed, she was still going to leave. She would just take a smaller piece of him with her if he left it unsaid.

"I'm not sure I even want to be in the Service anymore. Since I've learned how it failed my father, I feel differently about it." Imara replied. "I need to take some time out and think about my future." Lords, she had tried to think about how her future might include Starbuck, but she knew that whenever she looked at him, she would see her father's disgrace. "I should really be spending some time with my mother. Do you understand?"

Starbuck nodded slowly. He had been thinking about it most of the day. After all, he wasn't totally insensitive. "I wish . . . I wish we'd gone somewhere else last secton-end. That none of this had happened." He muttered quietly, dropping her hand and fingering her hair lightly.

"_You_ wish?" she asked ruefully. All the same, just knowing that he'd sooner be with her, rather than see an arms smuggling racket revealed and her father demoted meant a lot. Probably more than he knew. Maybe even more than she thought he was capable of. She smiled up at him. "Kiss me like you did that first time, Starbuck. I want to feel it right down to my toes."

A languid smile spread across his face. "It wasn't your toes I was aiming for," he told her huskily.

"All right then." She could feel the heat rising from her neck into her cheeks. She didn't care though. "Take your best shot, flyboy."

Starbuck studied her, memorizing every detail of her delicate features. Her beautiful eyes beckoned him as she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. Her jamocha skin was flushed with colour.

His hand crept behind her head, his fingers entwined lightly in her tresses. He gazed into her dark eyes, losing himself in their depths. The suspense of the moment only heightened his desire for her, and the anticipation on her features told him she felt the same.

He leaned in and kissed her softly, tentatively, just as he had only days before. But, unlike the first time, her lips hungrily sought his, as she pressed herself against him in a desperate need to connect with him once again.

They clung together, trying to fit yahrens of passion into one embrace. The three little words they were reluctant to speak were instead conveyed by touch, as hair became mussed, tunics became un-tucked, and arousal became evident.

The extra-loud, purposeful sound of Colonial boots clapping down the hallway startled them both and they looked up to see Major Diallo heading towards them.

"Frack, that was stupid," Starbuck muttered from where they stood in the doorway, still embraced. With scant effort he picked her up, walked two paces in the door, and kicked it shut with the heel of his boot. He grinned down at her, painfully aware he would need a few centons before he could face the Major.

"Starbuck!" she laughed as the somewhat surprised, but mostly outraged visage of her father replayed in her mind. Her view of Diallo while peering over Starbuck's shoulder had been almost comical.

"What?" he chuckled in reply, setting her down. He pulled her gently against him again, feeling her laughter against his chest, knowing how much he would miss it.

Imara's laughter faded to a smile as she felt him running his fingers through her hair again. A simple touch that was so sensual in nature; she loved it.

Her eyes darted sadly around the room, taking in the mostly empty office except for the few boxes that held the last eight yahrens of her father's career. She sighed and snuggled against him once again, looking up to meet his eyes. "Any last words?"

He sniffed in amusement. "Funny way to put it."

"No regrets, Starbuck." She told him. "We may never see each other again. This is our last chance to say whatever we need to say."

"You go first." He answered immediately.

"Coward." She retorted.

"That's it? That's what you wanted to say?" he chuckled along with her.

"You're a man of many words, Starbuck. Most of them total felgercarb." She accused him with a knowing smile. "But what you don't say . . . that's what I'll always cherish when I think of you." She blinked as her eyes filled with tears.

"No regrets." He whispered back to her, shaking his head at the impossibility of that. Lords, he had lived life that way for so very long, but this time it was different. _Just move on, it doesn't really matter_, had been a way of life. Until Imara.

His own eyes filled with tears and he blinked them back, embarrassed by his emotions. He tried to tell himself that they would have crashed and burned in a couple sectars, if only to settle his tumultuous feelings. She would have discovered his faults and then moved on. But then he saw the first tear spill from her eyes. "Imara, I . . . "

_RAP, RAP! _

" . . . love you," she finished for him, wiping at his runaway tear as she looked at the door, knowing their time had run out.

" . . . love you." He smiled and tipped up her chin and tenderly kissed her.

_RAP, RAP! _

"Lords, what does he _think_ we're doing in here?" Starbuck asked her with a grin.

"Exactly what we _are_ doing." She replied in amusement and then studied him for a final moment before sadly adding, "You'd better go."

"I know." He nodded, caressing her cheek one more time before turning and opening the door.

Major Diallo stood there akimbo, staring at them in impatience. He let out a sigh as he stood back for Starbuck to pass.

A stream of sarcastic comments came to mind, each more venomous than the one before, as Starbuck faced Diallo. For Imara's sake, he bit his lip and walked by. He controlled his urge to look back, knowing it was likely Diallo's ugly puss he would see. He soothed himself by picturing the Major in Arktos, freezing his astrum off; however, Imara's haunting image superimposed itself over her father's. He sighed as the sound of his boots echoed down the lonely hallway.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17  
Epilogue

The breeze was gentle and the air was fresh. The view was outstanding. When Apollo had told Starbuck he was raised in Caprica City, he hadn't mentioned that his family's home was far on the outskirts of town, high in the hills looking over the city and the ocean beyond.

It was like a different world where solitude and peace reigned over green rolling knolls. The nearest neighbour was a hectare away, yet when you met him wandering the ambling trails, he greeted you like a long lost friend.

At night, the stars seemed so close, you felt like you could reach up and pull them from the sky. Everyone in Apollo's family was a stargazer, and Starbuck had had each and every visible constellation pointed out to him over the course of the two nights he was there. And he had found out, not surprisingly, that Apollo owned a telescope.

The heavens had favoured them. Bright sunshine had broken through the cloud cover the first day they arrived, and had persisted through the secton-end. He lay down on his back, chewing on the stem of grass he had plucked. Even the grass tasted sweeter, he reflected as he breathed in the earthy smell around him. Yeah, it was quite the place.

He grinned as he thought back to Apollo's invitation. His friend was difficult to deceive and he had a pretty good idea that Starbuck's unusual silence wasn't just due to the black and blue mosaic he was sporting over his body. Apollo had invited him home for secton-end on the pretense of helping him catch up with his missed classes.

Of course, when Starbuck had asked the flight leader if he kept his previous yahrens assignments at home and if he might just borrow them, Apollo had acted suitably appalled. He then spent the next centar convincing the reluctant Starbuck to join him for a change of scenery.

That was the understatement of the yahren.

At first, walking into his friend's home was much like being in the eye of a hurricane. The family had greeted Apollo, enveloping him in an onslaught of embraces and questions. His siblings competed for his attention from the moment he was out of his mother's arms. Starbuck had stood back watching the onrush with a mixture of amusement and just a little envy. Then Ila had closed in on him.

He had never met a woman more gracious and sincere than Apollo's mother. It took her all of a centon to notice him standing apart and to hurry to his side to welcome him to their home, and ultimately, their family. She was warm, intelligent, witty, and could do things to everyday food that had him reaching for repeated helpings. Nope, no need to camouflage the meals in Ila's kitchen.

Commander Adama was a pleasant surprise. Starbuck had just assumed that a man of his renown and importance would be filled with a certain amount of arrogance and pretension. Instead, he was much like his wife with an air of hospitality that had him sharing stories of his own time as a young fighter pilot while as a cadet and ensign. He also displayed an indulgence towards his children that bespoke of too much precious time spent separated from his family.

Apollo's younger brother had actually acted a bit jealous of Starbuck, when he had seemed to usurp Zac's usual position of 'center of attention'. But a couple of games of pyramid later in the seclusion of the boy's bedroom had cinched their bond of chicanery and quasi-delinquency.

Then there was Apollo's sister, Athena. The young woman was a mixture of sweetness, naivety and youthful exuberance that was instantly endearing. She was expecting to attend the Academy the following yahren, which would place her and Starbuck there at the same time, or so she kept reminding him. He had caught her watching him surreptitiously several times, which was both amusing and annoying. Amusing to Starbuck and annoying to Apollo.

He closed his eyes, the sun warm on his face as he stretched out on the hillside overlooking Apollo's home. He could hear his friend's steady ascent towards him, and he knew his time there was drawing to an end. It had been a surprisingly rejuvenating few days, which he realized he truly needed, for probably the first time in his life.

Apollo sat down beside him, smiling at Starbuck's slothful position. "You really take relaxation to a new level."

"I think I've perfected it." Starbuck replied, still chewing on his blade of grass, one arm folded beneath his head. His eyes were closed . . . almost. Through a shadow of eyelashes, he could see his friend studying him, even though his expression was easy. Starbuck ignored the uncomfortable feeling that tugged at him and instead, let out a long, lazy sigh. Yeah, he could tell that Apollo had questions on his mind, and he wasn't exactly sure how he would respond. Maybe he could divert his squadron leader's attention, somehow.

"You ready for your make-up exam?" Apollo asked, interrupting Starbuck's strategy planning.

"Yeah," he answered casually. "You took great notes last yahren." He opened his eyes and grinned up at his friend.

Apollo nodded. "Good." He met the cadet's gaze, then looked off into the gentle blue sky, letting a calm silence settle between the two. High above, a falco glided, his wings spread wide, spiraling upward as he caught a thermal current.

Starbuck followed his friend's gaze and spotted the avian, too. He flew as if he were master of the sky, without a care or concern. The cadet knew the feeling; it gripped him every time he soared through the atmosphere and beyond in his ship. _Just you and the vastness of space._ No worries, no concerns. No attachments. Or separations.

A piercing cry, muted by the distance, reached their ears. Was it his imagination, or did it echo a mournful tone. _Frak_. Starbuck sat up abruptly, annoyed for some reason that Apollo had _not_ started grilling him about . . . things, but had left him to his own, drifting thoughts. He flung the blade of grass away and ran a hand through his hair.

"You okay?" Apollo asked quietly.

Starbuck sighed and gave a dry chuckle. "Yeah, I'm fine, or . . ." He squinted back up, but the falco was gone. " . . . will be," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Frakking waste of . . ." He trailed off, not sure what he really wanted to say.

Apollo let out his own loud sigh and flopped back against the grass. "Yeah, I know what you mean. She was a great leader and organizer. Frakking waste of everything!" He spat the last few words.

Starbuck gazed at his friend in surprise, but then again . . . why was he surprised? Apollo had known Imara longer, had worked with her closely for several sectars in their roll as squadron leaders. He knew his respect for her ran deep. "Got that right," Starbuck muttered.

They lapsed into silence once more, with Apollo studying the cloudless sky and Starbuck examining some trees way off in the distance. Finally, the Phoenix squadron leader sat up. "So," he said at length, "need some help?"

Starbuck shot him a quizzical look. "With what?" If he thought --

"Plotting your revenge." Apollo narrowed his eyes, but his lips snaked up in a mirthless smile.

"Revenge . . .?" It took him just another micron to read the hard glint in Apollo's green eyes. "Ah, yes . . . well . . . are you serious? I mean, you can't really be willing to risk your status as squadron leader --"

"Dead serious. Besides, with your devious machinations and my unfailing common sense, we're bound to pull it off unscathed." His eyes twinkled in sudden devilry. It would be fun. A little walk on the wild side for a change. Not to mention a much needed distraction for Starbuck.

Starbuck studied his friend for a moment longer, then broke out into a broad grin. "Okay, then, maybe you can think of something even more humiliating than purple dye."


End file.
